


Long Distance Propinquity

by Quit3Contrary



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family Angst, Fluff, Fuck it's cute, Long-Distance Relationship, Longing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Online Relationship, Online Romance, Romance, Travel, World Travel, backpacking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quit3Contrary/pseuds/Quit3Contrary
Summary: Yuri Katsuki, upon graduating from university, realizes that his life up until this moment has been entirely scripted.  In a moment of self-loathing, he purchases a one-way ticket to Rome, eager to distance himself from everything that he knows.  A series of encounters with a friendly, helpful stranger make him realize that the world is much smaller than he realized... or, at least, he wants it to be.A Victuuri backpacking AU, featuring cities from all across the world.





	1. Rome.

The plane shuddered as it touched down at Fiumicino Airport in Rome; proudly named after Leonardo da Vinci, it boasted some of the highest passenger traffics in all of Europe, and Yuri Katsuki was one of the 40 million people it would accept this year.  The facts from the thick guidebook in his bag calmly repeated themselves in his head as the plane bumped its way to the gate.  He had arrived, and somehow he was more nervous now than he had been before he left.

Yuri was a hopeful 23-year-old man from the Kyushu region in Japan, specifically a small beach town named Hasetsu.  It was a sleepy place, one that got smaller every year, and its latest departing resident was doing so to have his last adventure before adulthood.  Fresh-faced and recently graduated from Meikai University with a bachelor’s in Hospitality and Tourism Management, the young man had realized upon receiving his degree from his unremarkable school and returning to his unremarkable home at an unremarkable traditional onsen that he was painfully average.  Having such a revelation always brings with it some small degree of panic that sometimes encourages irresponsible decision-making, and it was precisely that panic that caused Yuri to end the day with a one-way ticket to Italy sitting patiently in his inbox, dated three months from then.  Despite going to school more than halfway across the country from his home, he had never dared to travel far from either location, his bubble small and safe.  

Closing his eyes, Yuri tried to push through the haze of being awake for nearly 30 hours to catch up to the present moment, the ding of the seatbelt sign being switched off startling them back open.  Instinctively, he got to his feet, pulling his bag out of the overhead compartment and entering the airport as a wave of sound slapped him in the face; the swell in the unfamiliar language partnered with the unnecessarily rolled “r”s made Italy sound more hostile than Yuri was sure it actually was.  His sleep deprivation didn’t care about logic, however, and the Asian couldn’t help but feel his apprehension grow as he made his way to the train that would take him to the city center.  

Taking a break near a line of abandoned pay phones on the way, the hapless young man slithered out of his oversized tan coat before tying it around his waist, double checking a few of the pockets on the front of the jacket to make sure that his valuables were still present.  On a glass partition that separated each antiquated device, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, his hair dulled and piecey from the amount of time he’d been forced to go without a shower.  Thick glasses rested on a button nose, the darkness of the frames highlighting his unusual pallor but complementing the pair of shadows that had appeared under his brown-black eyes.  With a heavy sigh, Yuri tousled his hair and grabbed his giant backpack, the monstrosity pressing into more than a third of the length of his body.  He’d be late for his train if he didn’t hurry.

The sun crawled below the horizon as they dashed along the rails, Yuri clinging to his bag as he pressed himself into the wall, eyes wide and mistrusting of just about any living thing.  He’d heard a lot about pickpockets in Italy and wasn’t sure how much stake to put in the rumors, as it seemed like such a dated thing to be concerned about.  But being here, surrounded by faces that weren’t similar to his and a language that he couldn’t understand, made every horror story he’d previously laughed off in the safety of his home come back to the forefront of his mind.  Somehow, he was certain he was going to be robbed, beaten, kidnapped, and eventually killed before the day was through.  His brain hadn’t yet come up with the specifics, but jetlag didn’t seem to care.

The Termini station came upon them quickly, and soon Yuri was out in the world, completely free and terrified.  His head swam with exhaustion, legs and back weak from the long flight.  Taking a moment at one of the nearby benches, Yuri dug into his backpack for a map, his phone currently useless thanks to international roaming--a problem he wasn’t sure how to solve.  As he spread the massive paper shamelessly across the top of his bag, the Asian got lost in the unraveled yarn ball that represented the streets of the city he was now allowed to explore for up to three months.  They fuzzed together, the tiny text difficult to read, and after a few minutes of attempting to find where he was with little success, his vision blurred with tears that eagerly gathered in his eyes.  Frustration, hunger, and sleep deprivation were a lethal combination to his nerves, and it only grew worse as he became increasingly disappointed in his ability to take care of himself mere hours after landing.  

Maybe this was a mistake.  Maybe Yuri should have been happy with how boring his life was.  He knew many didn’t have the luxury of deciding to throw away nearly everything just for a change of pace.  It was selfish of him to take that for granted, and even worse for him to miss it after it was gone.  Yuri was young and lost, shame creeping in from every direction when he realized the depth of his inexperience.  Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, Yuri removed his thick, black and blue glasses from the bridge of his nose to clean them, hoping that would help his eyesight but mostly buying himself some time before attempting again.

“ _ Stai bene? _ ”

Yuri nearly leapt out of his skin when he was addressed, turning quickly to face the smooth voice that had come out of nowhere.  The owner stood a polite distance away, a pale, caucasian man with silver hair and stunning blue eyes.  He was thin, standing several centimeters taller than Yuri, the faint lines at the corners of his lips and eyes betraying that he was older than the Asian, but most likely not by much.  A black, v-necked shirt draped over him gracefully, complimented by a pair of well-fitted dark wash jeans that had been cut off at the knee.

It was now that Yuri realized he was staring, the whites of his eyes on full display as he was faced with his first encounter in a foreign language.  He assumed that the man had addressed him in Italian, but what he had said was anyone’s guess.  The stranger smiled, recognizing the look.

“English?”

English.  English was good.  English Yuri could do.

“Yes,” Yuri responded, tongue thick with an accent.  He didn’t get much chance to practice, though the program at his University insisted he learn the language due to his major.

“I was asking if you were okay,” the blond clarified, his own accent playing at the edges of the words he spoke.  A smile pulled back at his lips, pulled down in the center in a way that made his mouth appear heart-shaped when it opened, but similar to a turtle when it wasn’t.

Yuri’s brain moved at half speed, translating the words spoken to him slowly before formulating a response.  Eyes blinking, he stuttered out his reply.

“I-I’m doing okay, thank you,” the Asian replied, tears graciously retreating as he focused on a task that wasn’t as overwhelming.  As his grin widened, the other man rested a hand on his hip.

“I know that look better than anything,” he said, seeing through Yuri’s lame attempt at appearing like a normal adult who had any idea of what they were doing.  “Have you eaten?”

With great hesitation, Yuri shook his head, unsure of where this was leading.  The blond kept a respectful distance, making no moves for Yuri’s things, but his desire to be helpful was suspicious to say the least.

“Why don’t you come to dinner with me?  You just got in, right?”  Another hesitant nod.  “Trust me, you’ll feel better when you eat.  And it’ll give you a chance to look at your map…” He trailed off for a moment, eyes shifting around them briefly as he finished the thought.  “...away from pickpockets.”

The reminder made Yuri feel vulnerable, the concrete walls of the train station inching closer as he realized the sheer amount of people that could do him harm.  He knew the vast majority of them wouldn’t, but all it took was one.  His eyes darted of their own accord, mind drifting in directions that weren’t constructive as it saw everyone as an enemy--the ‘helpful’ stranger being the one that set off the most alarm bells.  Like a fish, his mouth opened and closed, trying to grasp any of the words he knew he could say that were just out of reach.

“Ah, you’re not comfortable,” the lilting voice drifted through his thoughts again, the pale hands held up in surrender as he gave Yuri a comforting smile.  “I understand.”  Letting them fall, he moved closer to Yuri, resting a hand on his shoulder as he pointed with the other.  “See that restaurant there?  That’s where I’m headed.  If you change your mind, come join me.”

With another smile, the stranger winked, making his way towards the establishment he had indicated.  Yuri’s heartbeat quickened as he left, though it was difficult to say if that was because he was nervous at the idea of being left alone again, or terrified that he was actually humoring the proposition.  Heart thudding against his chest, Yuri turned back to his open map, helplessly deflated against the top of his backpack, and felt himself similarly collapse under the weight of trying to figure this out on an empty stomach.  Glancing back in the direction his overly helpful acquaintance had disappeared, he began to weigh the pros and cons of joining the other for a meal.  He needed to eat, there was no question about that.  So long as he was vigilant, it was unlikely that anything could go wrong in such a public place.  This trip was supposed to be about taking risks… right?

Before he could second-guess himself further, Yuri found himself standing in front of the hostess, surrounded by pale pink walls decorated with Tuscan landscapes and black and white family photos.  He spotted the stranger first, attempting to communicate with single-syllable English words and pointing that he was expected.  With a fair amount of confusion, she waved him along, most likely to encourage the anxious, somewhat manic foreigner to get away from her.  Yuri might have felt embarrassed if he weren’t so tired, and his new friend’s eager greeting brought with it a small amount of relief that mixed poorly with the endless amounts of anxiety and dread he felt at accepting the invitation.  Against the entirety of his better judgment, he took a seat across from the platinum blond, unable to keep his eyes from going wide.

“I’m so glad you came!” the other man chirped, waving down a waitress for a menu and a glass of water.  “Take your time, decide what you want, and then we can chat.  If you need help understanding what something is, let me know and I can try to help.”  He grinned sheepishly, a hint of pink greeting Yuri from the tip of the other man’s nose.  “I don’t know much Italian myself.”

Exhaling, Yuri nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the menu as he tried to calm his heart.  His bag waited patiently beside him, the strap wrapped around his ankle to keep it from going anywhere.  Paranoia whispered to him all the different ways that this could go wrong.  As he swallowed, Yuri tried to push those fears down with the action.

He ordered spaghetti with a meat he couldn’t translate, but didn’t particularly care.  People in European cultures didn’t tend to get too crazy with their proteins.  As the menus were taken away, so was Yuri’s safe haven from the stranger’s eyes, and now he was forced to meet the bright blue gaze, crinkled at the corners from his friendly smile.

“Thank you for joining me,” the white man said, his hands folded and resting on the table.  “A friend I was going to meet ended up ditching me, so I’m glad I found you!”  A realization hit him, his hand reaching out across the white tablecloth in greeting.  “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself.  I’m Victor.”

Yuri dipped his head in response, a reflex from his more traditional Japanese upbringing, but quickly accepted the hand to shake it, his grasp weak and unpracticed.  Victor’s hand was firm around his own, the warmth of his smooth palm present even after they had finished.

“My name’s Yuri,” the asian responded quietly, dipping his head again.  The other responded in kind, the smile never quite leaving his face.

“Oh really?  That’s my brother’s name,” Victor brightened.  Yuri felt himself relax as the stranger began to humanize himself with details.  “He’s younger than you, though.  Where are you from?”

“I-I came from Japan.”

“Wow,” the exclamation was breathy, almost sing-songy.  “I haven’t quite made it there yet.  Though I guess I should have.  I’m from Russia originally, so it’s not really that far.”

In the quiet of the restaurant and the easy flow of Victor’s conversation, Yuri felt his wits begin to return to him, finding some semblance of center.  The calm prompted him to speak, foreign words finding their way to him with much less difficulty.

“It’s okay.  I haven’t been to Russia yet.”

Victor grinned, replying quickly as he caught on to Yuri’s lame joke, “Then I guess that makes us even, then.  How long have you been in Europe?”

“I-I just arrived today,” Yuri felt the heat in his cheeks betray his embarrassment, but Victor seemed delighted in the admission.

“Really?  Your first day!  No wonder you were so overwhelmed.”  The Russian leaned back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes looking in the past as nostalgia swept over him for a brief moment.  “I remember the first time I left home.  Getting off the plane that first time is terrifying.  No friends, no frame of reference… and no sleep.”

A yawn timed itself perfectly at that final declaration, Yuri’s hand rushing to cover his mouth as it snuck up on him.  His conversation partner cocked his head to the side, the smile never leaving his face but always changing as he absorbed all of the younger man’s actions.

“I was that obvious?” Yuri said after he had recovered, sheepishness painting his cheeks as his acquaintance chuckled and nodded.

“Pulling out a map is sort of a big red flag,” Victor responded casually, hooking his elbow over the back of his chair.  “You always want to make sure that if you need to check your bearings that you do it indoors and away from major tourist areas.  Ah, and your wallet…”

Tension clamped down on the dark-haired man as he felt the familiar lump in his back pocket.

“...You’ll want to keep that in your front pocket.  And if you can wear longer shirts or jackets, that will help as well.  I know summer is coming up, though.”

Swallowing, Yuri nodded, feeling all his naivety acutely as the stranger pointed out his faulty approach to the day, which was generously nearing its end.  An idea entered his mind, encouraged by his compromised state and the gentleman’s uncanny knowledge of pickpockets, one that prompted a conspiratorial whisper.

“Are  _ you  _ a pickpocket?”

The suggestion was so ridiculous that it was met with a loud guffaw, one that punched the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant and drew a handful of stares.  The Russian didn’t seem to mind, however; he remained blissfully ignorant of the eyes that fixated on the two of them.

“No, no, no,” Victor said, waving an insistent hand to dissipate the suggestion.  “I’ve just paid a lot of attention to detail.  I try and point things out when I can, but most people just think I’m trying to steal from them.”  He shrugged, rolling his eyes.  “The irony.”

Yuri allowed a small chuckle to escape him, eyes shifting down to the table before glancing back up through dark lashes at the man seated across from him.

“Why did you want to help me?” he asked, curiosity and compulsion propelling the question out of him.  Victor tilted his head again, eyes never leaving Yuri’s.  Despite the dark-haired man’s wandering gaze, the Russian’s had remained as steady as his smile.

“I recognized that panicked look, and I’ve heard that Asian tourists tend to get targeted more than others.  Didn’t want to see things turn sour for you just because you didn’t have a minute to collect yourself.”  After a moment, his smile turned impish, the Russian leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms.  “It helps that you’re cute.”

A bright heat gathered in Yuri’s puffy cheeks, his eyes drifting downward to find an interesting spot on the tablecloth as he shrank down in his chair just a little bit.  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the compliment, but, well… He wasn’t expecting it from such a handsome foreigner.  Especially not after he had been on a plane for 30 hours.

“Well, not to say that I don’t help people because I don’t think they’re cute,” Victor eagerly corrected himself as he laughed.  “I-I mean, I like to help everyone, but it just makes longer talks more pleasant if they’re… you know…”

Yuri did not know, and it was his turn to cock his head in confusion.  The blush at the tip of Victor’s nose darkened, spreading across the bridge and flooding into his cheeks.  Much to his delight, the waitress chose this moment to approach with their meals, and he eagerly thanked her as she set down their food in an attempt to change the subject.  

A few moments passed in blissful silence, Yuri closing his eyes after taking his first bite of food that wasn’t prepackaged or reheated in a very long time.  Granted, it had been several hours since his last meal, so even hot garbage would have tasted wonderful.  But the food was delicious, the thick noodles slick with sauce and littered with bits of perfectly seasoned ground beef.  Red meat tended to be pricey at home, and he was happy for a cheaper opportunity to enjoy it.  If flying across the world to eat it could be considered less expensive.  Victor was eating a mess of greens he had referred to as “puntarelle”, doused in what looked like oil mixed with anchovies.  Beside it rested a large filet of tuna colored an alert pink through most of its middle.

“How long are you planning on being in Rome?” Victor asked, the question falling neatly into the pocket of quiet after the two of them had a few moments to dig in.  A shrug erupted from the younger man’s shoulders, the reality of just how little he’d planned his time away settling into him.  He might have felt panicked, if he wasn’t fighting off the urge to nap in his pasta now that he had eaten some of it.  His new friend grinned, white teeth brilliant in the dim light of early evening that retreated out of the windows around them.  “Adventurous.  I like it.”

Now Yuri couldn’t help but furrow his brow, confusion overtaking his need to be polite.  Was Victor… flirting with him?  The idea seemed so far-fetched that he immediately dismissed it, giving his head the tiniest of shakes.  Yuri Katsuki was many things, but desirable was not one of them, evidenced by his long-running streak of avoiding relationships that had lasted the entirety of his life.  It wasn’t something he had meant to do… but something that had happened regardless.  The word ‘unremarkable’ made itself known in his mind again.

“How long have you been in Rome?” The dark-haired man asked, trying to drown out his thoughts.  It seemed the natural response.  Victor took a moment to think before answering.

“Rome?  Hm.”  An index finger hovered over his own lips as he pondered.  “A week and a half, maybe?  I’ve been in Italy for about a month.  I’m leaving tomorrow, though.”

“Going back to Russia?”  The laugh that followed from the older man implied that Victor thought the question completely ridiculous, though Yuri didn’t think he had said anything that out of the ordinary.  

“No, thankfully.”  An interesting response, one that reminded Yuri of just how little he knew about the stranger he had been pleasantly dining with.  “I’m headed outside of the EU to let my visa reset.  I’m thinking the Ukraine, but… who knows?”

A dark brow quirked curiously.  “You don’t?”

Victor shrugged, the smile matching his carefree reply.  “Not really.”

“Do you do that often?”  Yuri asked, looking down at his fork as he clumsily attempted to to twirl some of the spaghetti around its prongs.  He was eating much slower than Victor, he had realized--if only he had a pair of chopsticks.

“Mm,” Victor grunted affirmatively through a mouthful of food before swallowing.  “Quite a few times.”

The visa that was most commonly awarded to tourists, and one that Yuri had for himself, allowed travelers to stay for up to 90 days out of 180 in most of the countries within the European Union.  Curiosity peaked, Yuri couldn’t help but press.  “How long have you been traveling?”

“That’s a good question,” Victor smiled as he popped the last of his puntarelle in his mouth, chewing contemplatively.   “Six years?  Seven?”

The answer shocked Yuri, mostly because he had never heard of someone living a completely unscripted life like this for more than a handful of months.  Granted, he probably knew some of the most straight-laced members of his own society, but that amount of time seemed… a bit excessive.  Thoughts of being away from everything he knew for that long made him a bit dizzy, most likely exacerbated by the stress of the day that had still yet to end, but Yuri had left the onsen with no real idea of when he would return.  Was this how he’d end up, six or seven years from now?  Yuri brought his eyes to meet Victor’s, though the latter’s gaze had never left.

...He could think of worse ways to end up.

“Seems like a long time to be away from home,” the younger man said, taking a sip from his water.  

Still smiling, The Russian shrugged again.  “I’ve never really felt like I’ve had one.”  The statement was said so lightly and with such factuality that Yuri almost didn’t realize how sad it was that Victor believed it.

The meal continued on, each man at the table taking their time with their food between extended conversation.  It was soon quite apparent that Victor was a fountain of information, giving the darker-haired man more than a few tips on navigating public transit, where he could find paying work, where and when to find the freshest food; as it turned out, eating seasonally was also friendlier to shoestring budgets.  Money wasn’t as plentiful a resource when you weren’t legally allowed to work.  When the subject of hostels came up, they discovered that they would be staying in the same one that night.  Victor graciously offered to walk the two of them to it, and Yuri hesitantly agreed--but only if he could keep a hawk’s eye on Victor’s GPS along the way.  After the day he had, the last thing he wanted was to get kidnapped.  That tended to put a damper on things.

They arrived, and Yuri was shown to his dorm--four white walls wrapped around two white bunk beds placed on opposite sides of the room.  Between them rested a splotch of dubious grey carpet.  The Russian was kind enough to show his new friend how to lock up his bag while he was sleeping or away, looping through the zippers of the main pouch before hooking the lock around the thin metal bars at the head of his bed.  Judging from the heavily chipped paint, it was a common practice.

As it turned out, Victor was staying in another room, but two of Yuri’s other roommates chose that moment to enter, the white-blond greeting them warmly before they turned their attention to the hostel’s newest addition.  They were young, younger than Yuri; the taller of the two was introduced as Leo, his caramel skin and highlighted hair making him look South American but his accent decidedly more northern. The other, an asian boy with a perpetual blush, was called Guang-Hong.  Though he would never admit it aloud, Yuri felt some small relief at seeing a face similar to his own in a place that was so utterly foreign in every way.

With only a moment to breathe, Victor suggested they band together to combat Yuri’s exhaustion to keep him awake and on ‘Roman time’, which the man would soon learn meant much later nights and earlier days than he was accustomed to keeping.

They found themselves in a bar named the Black Market, though it looked much more reputable than the name would imply.  As they found a seat on a worn leather couch in the farthest corner from the bar, Victor announced that the first round was his treat; he dashed away before Yuri could protest, as his history with alcohol was sordid and his antics while under the influence tended to border on inappropriate.  The fact that he was in a foreign country with no one he actually knew also made him less than eager to compromise his sobriety.

Releasing a sigh, Yuri took a moment to begin to appreciate the details of the world around him as it occasionally came back into focus; the adrenaline must have kicked in again, because while he felt like he was quite capable of losing consciousness on request, he didn’t feel the incessant need to.  Indeed, he was nearly pleasantly awake, but he assumed that must have been the food.

The room they were in was small, the wood paneled ceiling and floor reminding him of home.  Any piece of furniture was colored the same comforting shade of brown, with the walls wallpapered with arching yellow patterns and lit by bronze lamps scattered across the room.  Live jazz music trickled through an open doorway leading to what must have been a stage.  An animando piano punctuated their conversation as it improvised when Victor returned with an unopened bottle of wine in one hand and four glasses dangling from the fingers of the other.

Hesitantly, Yuri accepted his offering of alcohol, more to be polite than out of any actual desire for it.  He sipped it slow as Victor chatted with the two new additions to their party, allowing the dark-haired man to learn about them without needing to ask himself.  Leo was American, as it turned out, and Guang-Hong Chinese, though Yuri could have guessed that from his name.  The two had been friends online for several years, deciding to meet in Rome once Leo turned 19, as it was the closest to being the center point between the two of them.  It also, conveniently, allowed both of them to drink, something that Leo was not yet able to do at home, and something he desperately wanted to partake in.  Yuri couldn’t remember how eager he was to do the same when he became of age, but Victor did, and gleefully shared the stories of his first hangovers.  A smile was always present on his lips here, as well; Yuri didn’t think he had seen the Russian without one since meeting him three hours previously.

“I want another drink,” Leo announced as he glanced around with obvious anxiety, most likely because it felt like he was doing something wrong--and he was, technically, but just not in this country.

“You’re on your own for that one, my friend,” Victor replied, shaking the wine bottle to signify its emptiness.  The Russian hardly finished the thought before the American was dragging his wailing friend behind him, the two of them drawing the shortest line to the counter of the bar.  Victor laughed, leaning back on the couch after picking his glass up off the surface of the small table that rested in front of it.  Yuri sat at the corner next to the other on a small ottoman, elbow resting heavily on his thigh as his chin teetered on the edge of his palm; he blinked, the world going out of focus for just a moment before clearing at the sight of Victor’s face.  He laughed once, a quiet exhale pushed through his nose as his smile broadened.  There was no hiding the pity on his face at the sight of the wilting newcomer.

“Would you like to lay down?” He asked as he gestured to the empty seats beside him, voice as bright and helpful as ever.  “I’m happy to move if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

Straightening, Yuri quickly shook his head, eyes lingering on his nearly untouched wine.  “No, it’s fine.  I might fall asleep and… I-I’d rather not.  Someone might--” he cut himself off, resisting the urge to parrot the million pieces of advice he’d been given since announcing his departure.  With a sheepish chuckle and heat apparent in his cheeks, he apologized, because he didn’t know what else to say.  “Sorry.”

“Not at all, I completely understand.”  There was no offense in his reply, his hands held in surrender once again.  “I wouldn’t want to lug you back to the hostel over my shoulder anyway if you did.  You look pretty stocky!”  Glancing down at his belly, the Asian frowned; he had gained a bit of weight in college, but he still thought of himself as  _ fairly _ slim.  Fairly.  As he let loose a playful laugh, Victor’s hand went to Yuri’s knee, patting it twice before pulling it back to himself.  The contact buzzed through his clothes, the other man’s aura ghosting on his skin.  “Sorry, bad joke.  You’re still cute, I promise.”

The blush that had powdered Yuri’s cheeks deepened to his ears, the heat from his face all but singeing his own hair.  It was now that Yuri heard the purr in the other man’s voice, the gentle flip of his r’s and dark expression of his swallowed vowels.  In this light, Victor glowed, his long, lopsided silver fringe a beacon in the light; it hid one of his eyes, peeking through the gaps, and his icy blues caught the warmth in the room and let it pool in his irises.  They held each other’s gaze for more than a moment, Yuri’s sleepless state taking away some of his shame as he appreciated the subtle swell of Victor’s cheeks and the fine curve of his jaw. 

Neither of them had noticed the gap in the music until it started back up again, bringing the two of them out of their trance.  Reaching for his glass, Yuri hid another blush behind a sip of his wine.

“Why did you decide to leave Russia?” he found himself asking, curiosity prompted by the lull in conversation.  The other two in their party, who had mysteriously disappeared into the back room, had given their reasons, but Yuri was decidedly more interested in Victor’s.  The older man’s eyes wandered for a moment, the first time that night that Yuri could recall them doing so.  Were he more alert, he might have noticed the shift in the other’s expression, the weight pulling at the corners of his smile, but there was no hiding the fact that Victor gave his answer to this question more thought than he had any of their other interactions that night.

“My family,” Victor said, smile widening as he brought his gaze back to meet Yuri’s.  “We didn’t get along very well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  The younger man knew better than to press, but the other remained a picture of his cheerful self.

“Please, don’t be.  I’m happy.  That’s all that matters, right?”  The Russian’s expression warmed, though his eyes drifted to the full glass in Yuri’s hand.  “Don’t like the wine?” 

“O-Oh, no, it’s not that,” he said, glancing down into the deep red.  “I… just… I’m a terrible drunk.”

Silver eyebrows nearly disappeared into Victor’s forehead as he processed the information.  “ _ You? _  What do you do?”  He perked up, leaning forward as he brightened in the yellow light.  “No, wait.  Let me guess.  Did you… skip out on bills at restaurants?  Wait,  _ no!   _ Did you kill someone?!”  His imagination was snowballing, eyes shining with excitement as he undoubtedly created a million scenarios in his head with the four words of information he had been given.  With a violent shake of his hands, palms out and facing Victor, Yuri swooped in with a quick denial.

“No, no, no!” His eyes were wild from the nerves that gripped him at the idea of his newest friend getting the wrong idea.  “I-I just… I tend to get a little too excited.”

“I might like to see that,” Victor grinned as he extended his hand.  “But I agree, tonight probably isn’t the best to do that.  Want me to finish that for you?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“No greater tragedy than wasted wine, am I right?” the silver-haired man said with a wink as he accepted the glass, and as he took a sip Yuri idly wondered where his lips had been on the rim.  Blinking away the thought, Yuri flicked his eyes to a random corner, feeling the familiar burn in his face.

“What about you?  What brought you here?” Victor was the one to ask this time, and the Asian was similarly caught off-guard.  Words poured out of him, mostly because he didn’t have the brainpower to think much about what he was saying.  His gaze remained plastered on the small coffee table in front of him, unable to admit what he wanted to out loud if he knew that someone was listening.

“I’m not sure.  I-I woke up one day and… I wasn’t… I wasn’t happy.”

Cautiously, he brought his eyes up for a moment, long enough to catch the change in Victor’s body language as he shifted, legs unfolding as he rested his elbows on his knees to bring his face closer to the stuttering young man.  Dropping his glance back down, Yuri continued, puffy cheeks red from embarrassment.

“I thought it might be nice to leave home.  Get some perspective.  Or... something.”  Yuri felt panic gather in his throat, closing it off; he slouched further, trying to melt into the ottoman he was seated on as he brought a hand to his forehead in an attempt to calm his mind.  Had this really been a good idea?  It felt so stupid admitting that he hated his perfectly serviceable life back home in Hasetsu, no matter how unremarkable it was.  Was he being ungrateful?  Childish?  “I-I don’t know.  I’m starting to think I overdid it.”

“Overdid it?”  Victor echoed, blue gaze leveled on him without judgment.  Reaching to rub the back of his neck, Yuri tried to fight the feelings of self-consciousness that joined the panic and dread.

“Most people don’t buy a one-way ticket across the world to try and feel better.”

“You’re right.  But you’re not like most people, are you?” 

The moment after Victor said this stretched out into several, the Russian allowing the words to linger as Yuri felt legitimate confusion come to join the fray.  It had never occurred to Yuri that he would be anything but ordinary, even with his spontaneous decision to travel the world indefinitely.  As he continued, Victor stooped his head lower to make sure their gazes met.  “For whatever reason, you’re here now.  You’re obviously looking for something.  Instead of worrying about how to find it, why not just enjoy the time you have?”

“Easier said than done,” Yuri murmured with a weak smile and a shrug.  “I’m sure I’ll feel better when I’m able to see the city in the daylight, but… everything is just… really overwhelming right now.”

“I understand.  It’s a lot to take in.”  Victor pulled out his phone, checking the time before allowing a mischievous grin to slither across his lips.  “You just need to get to know the city a little bit, and it’s not too late in the day.  Let’s go on an adventure.”

“N-Now?” Yuri stuttered, and his friend nodded enthusiastically.

“Daylight is overrated.”  The Russian got to his feet, tilting his head back as he quickly finished the rest of his stolen wine.  As he placed the glass on the table, he held out his hand to the timid man in silent invitation.  “What do you say?”

In that moment, Yuri felt a small bit of panic bloom in his stomach, but this wasn’t the crippling kind of anxiety that frequently accompanied many of his decisions--this was coupled closely with a rush of excitement, prompted with the idea that he might spend some time alone with the stranger that had been so helpful since he’d arrived.  His eyes latched onto Victor’s, holding his gaze as his answer left his lips much more easily than he thought possible.

“...Okay.”

As he slipped his hand into the other man’s palm, Yuri found a comforting warmth present in the firm grip that followed his acceptance.  Victor beamed, the expression nearly blinding as he tracked down their missing companions to let them know that they would be heading out on their own.  They were bid a friendly farewell before slipping into the night, the full moon casting a silver glow on the city that was peppered with yellow street lights.

They made their way through weaving streets framed with familiar concrete, but smaller roads were constructed with a more picturesque cobblestone, limestone buildings hovering over them on either side as Victor tugged his slumberdrunk friend through Rome’s heart.  He pointed out sights gleefully as they passed them, though many were closed.  Wandering farther from the city center, parks became more plentiful, darkness settling around the two men as they enjoyed their solitude.  Victor’s hold was steady, keeping Yuri tethered to the ground and his thoughts centered on paying attention to where they were going.  As the night went on, Yuri found himself relaxing into the other’s company, smiling and responding quietly to conversation from the older man.  Victor was not so discreet, his laugh echoing out into the night air, his accented English lilting in Yuri’s ear like music.

Victor grew quiet as he lead Yuri to a location that he wouldn’t disclose until they arrived, something that spurred a fair amount of fear in the younger man as he began to imagine all the horrible ways this night could go wrong (again), but it was quickly dispelled as they neared a black void in the skyline around them, a large, unlit structure unapologetically towering into the night sky as they approached.

“What is that?” Yuri asked, squinting his eyes behind his glasses to see if he could pick out any details.  With a smile, his friend replied.

“What do you think it is?”

After a few moments, the dark-haired man spotted the moon peeking through an archway high in the sky.  From there, he made out that the entirety of the wall was made of nothing but.  This was…

“The Colosseum,” he breathed, allowing the depth of its history to sink into him.  Japan was no stranger to antiquity, but Hasetsu felt young and artificial, its only real attraction being a fake castle resting on a hill.  Here, Yuri could feel something radiate from the walls--nearly two thousand years of human life hummed around them.  Eyes wide, Yuri brought them to meet his impromptu tour guide, who was already gazing at him with an ever-present smile.  The Asian couldn’t keep the grin from his lips at his first real interaction with something he never thought he’d get the chance to see in person.  While he had taken his own steps to get here, this moment wouldn’t have been possible without Victor, who had so graciously pushed through the younger man’s anxiety to make sure that his time was spent well.  What little Victor had shown him made him hungry for more, which had seemed impossible just a few hours prior when Yuri was trying not to cry in a train station.

“Think you overdid it now?” Victor asked, giving Yuri’s hand a light squeeze before letting it go.  Here, he looked like a fallen star, his silver hair and pale skin all but glowing in the moonlight.  Yuri held his gaze, smile widening as he nodded.  “Good.  Having regrets is tedious, trust me.  I only have so much energy, and I don’t like wasting it on guilt.”

Another pause.  Another shared glance.  But this time, the quiet was uncomfortable for Yuri, who felt a need to say  _ something  _ to the other man bubble up in his throat.  Unsure of what exactly would be best, he settled for the simplest thing he could think of.

“Thank you, Victor,” Yuri murmured quietly, heat returning to his face.  Returning the smile, Victor gave Yuri’s shoulder a light pat before heading back the way that they came.

“Come on, it’s nearly 11,” he said.  “Let’s get you to bed.  You must be exhausted.”

The Russian’s words served as a reminder that yes, Yuri was teetering on the verge of collapse, and hearing it spoken only made the urge ten times worse.  Trotting up to walk side by side with Victor, Yuri allowed his hand to dangle close to the other’s, the smallest hope that the taller man would take it in his own again itching in the back of his mind.  He was not yet bold enough to take hold if it himself, and sadly, Victor allowed the distance to remain between them.

As they made their way into the hostel, the 37 hour day had left a generous mark on Yuri’s constitution, and he struggled to keep his eyes open when he made it to the open doorway of his empty dorm room.  The others must still have been out.  

The soft creak of the door frame startled Yuri, who turned around to see Victor’s arm resting on it just above his head.  They were close, their propinquity causing the air between them to buzz.  Unfortunately, Yuri had no energy left to give, and was unsure of what this moment was supposed to lead to, his normal awkwardness magnified by his exhaustion.

“I’ll be flying out tomorrow morning, so I’m not sure if I’ll see you before I leave.  But if I don’t...” Victor trailed off for a moment, his voice painted with something that Yuri couldn’t quite place.  “It was great meeting you, Yuri.”

There was something that clicked in the back of his mind at the way the Russian said his name, the pull of the ‘u’ different but the tap of the ‘r’ familiar.  It was his name, said in a way that no one he knew could say.  It made him feel special.  Different.  

But above all, he felt tired.  A weak smile played at his lips as he struggled to find the words to express his own interpretation of their meeting, so he settled for the simplest thing he could think of.

“I liked meeting you too.”

Yuri had no recollection of anything once they parted ways and he shut the door behind him, but he awoke face-down in a pool of his own drool and under a mess of sheets.  His body felt heavy, head sore from how hard he had slept.  Despite all this, he still managed to spring out of bed quickly to see if it was too late to bid a proper goodbye to his newest friend, but after inquiring as to his whereabouts at the front desk, he was informed that Victor had already left by the clerk.

Now, Yuri was on his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Since Kubo and the other team members started referring to Victuri as "soulmates", I wanted to explore what that meant, and when I went to Thailand recently I thought it would be interesting to tell a story of the two of them bumping into each other across the world. Since the characters are such jet-setters in the show, it would be fun to see them exploring those countries in a different way! There will only be 6 chapters (I swear), and I'll try and update when I can--ideally every week, but we all know how that goes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	2. Nuremburg.

Grass stretched out in all directions, heavily populated with thousands of people, most of them white.  They towered over Yuri, the majority clutching some sort of beer or other alcoholic beverage in their hand--those that didn't had cigarettes dangling between their fingers.  Surprisingly common were people that had both, though Yuri supposed his own home had people that were just as weak to those vices with as much frequency.  Yuri himself was lacking in either, though he wouldn't have minded a drink of his own, despite it being just past noon.  The sun and its heat were already quite friendly with them, and after a decent train trip from Munich the Asian was desperate for just about anything that could take the edge off of the stress that only travel could bring.

It was June, and closing in on 6 weeks since Yuri had landed in Rome.  While there was no stopping the anxiety that would come to greet him anytime he found himself on the move, the dark-haired man found himself in transit much more than he thought previously--much to his surprise.  Once the silver-haired stranger had humanized his surroundings a bit, Yuri found that he quite enjoyed the confusion and adventure that came with being somewhere totally new.  Once he had thoroughly explored much of what Rome had to offer, he made his way up to Tuscany; his breath had been stolen by the view from the Piazza le Michaelangelo in Florence, his frustration left behind in his navigation of Venice's canals, his heart tucked carefully away in the beautiful, dark, and towering gothic architecture of Siena.  Eventually, he had made his way to Southern France, wanting to avoid the tedium of crossing the Alps, wandering the colorful coastline of Nice before exploring the long-closed prison island of Chateaux d'If in Marseilles.  The port town was rough, some of its residents more jagged than the rocky cliffs near the ocean’s edge, but it was easy to find work at the docks, whether it was helping smaller fishing boats or running errands for people too busy to do it themselves.  

His next job came as a hostel clerk in Freiburg, a quiet University town that welcomed foreigners with open arms.  Germany had a decidedly different energy to it than anywhere else he had been, its people friendly and pace decidedly more relaxed.  Tourism wasn't quite as rampant, which lent Yuri some charm in his difference to the locals.  They were eager to help if he was willing to work, and willing he was.  His evenings, previously spent behind a glowing screen as he played MMOs, were now passed in the company of the people staying at the hostel; admittedly, there were still many nights occupied with being hunched over a portable gaming advice, as Yuri was not an excessively social person and no amount of travel would change that.  But being forced out of his comfort zone kept him alert and engaged in a way he hadn’t known before. 

He was a little sad to leave, but his lengthy train trip to Munich made him eager to see what a new place had to offer.  The scenery along the way was serene and picturesque, houses made of white plaster and stone tucked into splashes of greens littered over mountains.  It was eaten up quickly by Deutsche Bahn’s pride and joy, the Inter-Continental Express. While the one he was on wasn’t capable of going as fast, DB bragged some of the quickest land trains, with the ICE 3 clocking in at a top speed of 300KPH.  As Yuri was whisked across the countryside, these facts rattled around in his brain, but not because he had carefully memorized them.  He simply knew them.  The thick guidebook had long since been chucked in a donation bin, the asian opting instead to focus on understanding more about the places he was at through the people he met.  

Once arriving in Munich, Yuri caught wind of a massive music festival outside of Nuremburg, the musicians featuring ranging from American pop stars to barely noticeable indie groups.  It was something that Yuri did not take much of an interest in; the size of the crowds alone were enough to discourage him.  However, upon noticing that one of his favorite British artists was slated to play, that stance was quickly reconsidered, and he was on a north-bound train a few days later, arriving early on the first day of the festivities.  This was supposed to be a bit scary, he reminded himself.  Better to have regrets about something he did than something he didn’t do.

The city center was wrapped up tightly by a thick wall that had been reconstructed sometime after the 2nd world war, as most landmarks in Germany were.  It looked positively picturesque, its oldest parts obscured, making it look more mysterious than Yuri was sure it actually was.  Unfortunately, his destination was elsewhere, farther away from the pre-Renaissance village.  He was almost sad to leave behind the sights yet unseen, but as the city had been standing for close to a thousand years, he felt safe in assuming that it would still be there on Monday.  The bands, however, would not.

His arrival to the stadium and sprawling fields housing the Rock Im Park festival was uneventful, and as he housed his bag with staff for the time being he realized that he had yet to figure out where he was staying for the night.  The reaction (or lack thereof) to this revelation was telling even to himself--he was certainly less concerned with the details than he had been before.  He instead took time to enjoy the weather for a moment, the humidity much less present here than it was in Munich.  Clusters of trees appeared between parking lots with a lake snuggled next to a long line of greenery on the western side.

Checking his watch, Yuri pushed his lodging concerns to the side as his stomach let loose a convenient growl.  He was hungry, and thanks to his travel plans he had already had a fairly hefty day.  If everyone around him was going to drink, then so was he.  While he had left Rome quite some time ago, “Do as the Romans do” was never bad advice.

Food was found quickly, as it was present just about anywhere, and soon Yuri was carrying a small tray of currywurst in one hand with a chilled beer bottle in the other.  As he took a seat at a picnic table nearby, Yuri pulled out a paper schedule he had snatched from the desk he had left his bag at, eyes skimming over the schedule to lay out a plan for his day.  Yuri had never been at something like this before, and that fact coupled with the sheer amount he had paid for a weekend pass made him motivated to thoroughly explore what the festival had to offer.  But that intent was very,  _ very  _ short-lived.

“Still consulting your map, I see,” came a voice from his left, the delicately flipped ‘r’ nudging something Yuri’s memory.  “Didn’t I teach you anything?”

The man it belonged to took a seat at the table across from Yuri, lopsided silver fringe perpetually in his bright blue eyes.  Crinkled at the corners, they glittered with familiarity, his heart-shaped smile the cause of the imperfection. 

“Victor!” the name left Yuri involuntarily, and he felt his cheeks grow hot.  He had thought a lot about the stranger that materialized in front of him since they parted, and his immediate recollection of Victor’s name betrayed that a little too readily.  The night they had spent together felt like a dream at times, his jetlag combined with the Russian’s fleeting presence adding an unreal haze to the memory.  The name was the only thing Yuri had to prove to himself that Victor was real.

“You remember me!” Victor grinned, pleased with himself.  “I’m glad.  I was worried you might have forgotten.”

How could he have?  Yuri could still feel his hand wrapped firmly in the ghost of Victor’s.

“Of course not,” he said instead with a pink-cheeked smile, weakened with nerves.  “You were very helpful.”

“It was my pleasure,” the Russian winked, and Yuri was very aware of the fact that he was blushing.  “You’ve wandered quite a bit.  Have you gotten to see much since I saw you?”

With a nod, Yuri quickly relayed his adventures to his smiling acquaintance, who had since rested his chin on his palms and was watching the Asian with great interest.  Victor’s eyes never seemed to stray from Yuri’s, making the conversation feel more intimate than it was--Yuri was not as sensitive to it now, having spent the better part of the last month and a half talking almost entirely to complete strangers.  There was a confidence within him that he didn’t quite have before landing in Rome, though it was still as quick to flee at any sign of trouble.

“Wow,” said the silver-haired stranger when Yuri finished, its delivery almost sing-songy.  “You’ve had quite the adventure since I left.  I’m almost jealous.  I thought you’d be staying in Rome for a while.”

“I-I thought it might be nice to explore a bit more,” Yuri replied, self-consciousness returning to him now that he was done.  There was also no natural way to admit that he had only been more interested in expanding the scope of his trip because of their encounter.  “What about you?  I thought you needed to wait for your visa to reset?”

“I did!” Victor beamed, as though proud that Yuri had remembered that as well.  To be honest, Yuri was surprised that he had held onto as much information as he had from that night, given his desperate cling to consciousness at the time.

“Ah, there you are.”  Another voice appeared, bass tones rumbling through the noise of the crowd to reach them.  As Yuri turned to see the new arrival, his eyes landed on quite the male specimen--the stranger was tall and well-built, finely sculpted shoulders proudly on display in a sleeveless purple shirt.  Beige shorts barely covered the long legs that came to a halt beside Victor as he rested a sun-kissed hand on the Russian’s shoulder.  His hair, short and curly, was bleached with a brunette undercut peeking out from beneath the tousled locks.  Long, black eyelashes framed striking green eyes, dark peach fuzz nibbling at his chin and top lip.  “Found another friend, I see.”

“Speak of the devil,” Victor grinned, resting his own hand atop the newcomer’s.  “This is who I was waiting it out with.  Chris, this is Yuri.”  Chris’s eyes seemed to brighten with recognition, though Yuri could hardly guess why.  

“Yes, Yuri.  Wonderful to meet you,” the blond acknowledged, holding out a hand for a shake, which Yuri quickly obliged with a fair share of awkwardness--he was still getting used to that as a default greeting.  With the handshake out of the way, Chris turned back to his friend for a quick aside.  “In any case, I do hate to run, but I only stopped by to let you know that I won’t be staying with you tonight.”

“Already?” Victor raised an eyebrow, and his friend clucked his tongue in distaste.

“Please, have  _ some  _ faith in me, Victor.  They’re an old friend.”  Taking his hand back, Chris gave a small wave as he backed away from the pair at the table, eyes turning mischievous.  “In any case, I’ll leave you two to it.  You have my number if you need me.”

As the blond left, Victor shook his head, bemused smile decorating his features.

“He’s an old friend,” the Russian answered before Yuri could ask.  “I was staying with him in Turkey for a few weeks before we came here.”

“How long have you been in Nuremburg?” Yuri asked, and it took Victor no time to respond.

“We just arrived this morning, same as you.”  Excitement prickled in the bottom of Yuri’s belly, the serendipity of their meeting not lost on the Asian.

“That’s lucky,” he said without thought, but blushed when he realized it meant he was looking forward to seeing Victor again.  And, to be fair, he absolutely was.  He just never imagined it would actually happen.  The corners of the Russian’s mouth tugged up in a small smile, as though he were enjoying a private joke.

“You think so?” He asked, the question curled with amusement.  As Yuri stuttered to try and come up with a response, Victor quickly put him out of his misery with a quiet laugh.  “I do, too.”

It wasn’t long before Yuri finished the remainder of his beer and wurst, the two rising to toss the empty vessels.  Once the errand was done, Victor said three words--ones that Yuri never realized how badly he wanted to hear.

“Are you busy?” came the question, and Yuri felt his heart skip a beat.

“N-not at all,” he said, tossing the festival schedule in the bin with the rest of his offerings.  Victor’s expression warmed, smile widening as he took the other’s hand, Yuri’s eyes widening as his hand settled comfortably into the familiar grip.  Tightening his own fingers around the Russian’s, a warmth flooded into his chest and face, excitement and embarrassment and amity and the unknown taking him over all at once.  

“Great!” Victor cried, leading them towards another beer cart.  “You  _ must  _ try this local brew.  I can’t pronounce it for the life of me, but it’s delicious.  Do you like dark beer?”

Yuri didn’t have a preference, because Yuri did not frequently drink.  Not before coming here, at least.  So he lied.  “Yeah.”

Victor broke their hands apart to pay for the drinks--Yuri would have happily handed over cash for his own if it meant keeping their hold intact, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit it--and handed a tall, frothy glass over to his new friend before clinking them together.

“Prost!” the silver-haired traveler proclaimed, the German toast all too familiar for Yuri, having spent the better part of the last couple of weeks in a college town.

“Prost,” Yuri parroted, his much more hesitant.  This was a dangerous road he was walking down, though moreso for his dignity than anything else.  Still… danger could be a bit fun now and again.  Allowing himself to smile, Yuri tipped his glass back, the brew bitter on his tongue.  The glass was nearly finished by the time he righted it, and Victor looked impressed.

“Will it be  _ that  _ sort of day, then?” he asked, and Yuri felt himself grin, a pleasant buzz already in the back of his head.  Eating more, especially when he didn’t have much experience with drinking, was probably a good idea.  But good ideas didn’t always make talking to a cute guy easier, and that was more important to him at the moment..

“Why not?” the Asian asked in return.  Victor grinned back, accepting the challenge.

“I like a man who takes his day drinking seriously,” he said, the lilt in his voice changing, and Yuri suddenly became aware of how close they still were.  Victor’s shoulder brushed against his as the Russian turned to walk towards one of the stages, Yuri trotting after him like a lost puppy.  Their knuckles met for a moment while they strolled side-by-side, but their hands remained separated; as Yuri stole a glance at the man beside him, Victor looked completely unbothered, his gaze scanning the festival grounds as he brought his beer up for another drink.  As he did, he caught Yuri’s eyes, lowering his glass to reveal a hint of pink settled at the tip of his nose.

“Everything okay?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he brushed his fingers along his own cheek.  “Something on my face?”

“Oh, no,” Yuri said quickly, ducking his head to avoid the embarrassment he felt at getting caught.  “I’m just… I-I’m glad to see you.”  At the declaration, Victor’s face changed for a moment, an unidentifiable emotion flickering in his eyes as they squinted from the widening smile on his face, a generous helping of color spreading across the bridge of his nose.

“Glad to be seen!” He returned, a small laugh escaping him as Yuri hid his own blush behind another few gulps of beer.  This time, the glass was nearly empty, the buzz in his brain growing louder as the heat in his cheeks lingered.  “So, have you heard of Imogen Heap?”

Yuri’s eyes widened, having never met another person who recognized the name.  Then again, there weren’t too many people listening to whispy, independent British singers in the small town he grew up in.  Lubricated with alcohol, Yuri allowed his bewilderment to show much more freely, eyes wide and jaw slack.

“She’s the whole reason I’m here!” He replied in disbelief.  “ _ You  _ know about her?”

“Of course!” Victor brightened at the news, delighted by their commonality.  “Her first solo album managed to get me through high school.  It fit right into all my teenaged angsting, back when I thought I was a poet.”

“You write poetry?” Yuri asked, and Victor held up a hand to stop the thought in its tracks.

“I write,” he corrected.  “Whether it’s poetry is arguable.  Most of my work is for online publications.”

In all his life, Yuri had never met someone with a creative job, aside from the ballet instructor he had studied under when he’d run into back problems and and turned to dance in an attempt to be more active.  Maybe it was due to his painful tendency to be anti-social back in Japan, but the fact remained that his entire social circle comprised of nothing but office workers, convenience store clerks, and employees of the hospitality industry.  There was certainly nothing wrong with that work, as Yuri considered himself a member of the latter group, but he still couldn’t help but be fascinated by the idea of breaking the mold that he had fit into--however uncomfortably--to pursue something less traditional.  Though that was most of the reason why he was here in the first place, he supposed. 

“Let’s not talk about work,” Victor continued, breaking into his train of thought.  “It’s boring.”

“It is?” Yuri asked in response, the drink only adding to his confusion at the statement.  “I would think being a writer would be so…”  Fun?  Different?  Challenging?  “...Romantic.”

Come on, Katsuki.  Couldn’t he at least pretend to play it cool?  Victor seemed more amused by the proclamation than anything else.

“There’s  _ nothing  _ romantic about the writing I get paid for, I assure you,” he declared with more than a hint of disdain.  “Most of it is clickbait garbage.  But it pays decently enough, even if I need to shower after I send the invoice.”

Downing the rest of his beer, Yuri tossed the plastic cup in a bin before pulling out his phone.

“What’s your last name?” he asked, emboldened by the ever-present hum in the back of his mind.  The beer frothed within him as he felt his limbs loosen up with each beat of his heart.  He was not drunk… yet.

“Why?” Victor asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“I need it.”

“...For what?”  More incredulity.

“F-for my diary later.” Yuri stuttered out the joke convincingly enough in an attempt to dodge the question.  Victor laughed, and Yuri beamed at the idea that someone would find his lame sense of humor funny.

“And we were  _ just  _ talking about teenaged angst,” Victor shook his head, resting a hand on his hip as they came to a stop near an indoor venue that was conveniently beside another beer cart.  More beer seemed like a good idea, but before Yuri could take a step in that direction, his question was answered.  “Nikiforov.”

Tapping the word (or Yuri’s best approximation of it) into Google took only a moment, and soon he was flooded with results from various sites--most of them from an online American entertainment network.

“‘10 Reasons Why Chubby Guys Are the Best’?” Yuri parroted from the screen, and Victor let loose a groan as he finished the rest of his drink.

“ _ Please  _ don’t look at that garbage,” he lamented, placing his hand on Yuri’s shoulder before resting his forehead there.  Yuri laughed at the other’s discomfort, but it was mostly to cover his own nervousness at the touch, and with the information the title implied.  Knowing that Victor liked men sent a strange, fluttering sensation through his gut; knowing that Victor liked  _ chubby  _ men made Yuri border on thankful for the little paunch that became more apparent with each year he marched further into his 20s.

“But what if I want to know?” Yuri prodded, teasing tone covering his self-consciousness.  The other pulled himself from Yuri’s shoulder, giving him a tired look.

“Believe me, I’m always happy to discuss that topic, but I’m going to need at  _ least  _ two more drinks,” Victor stated, crossing over to another trash can to toss his empty cup.  As he turned back, he replaced the hand on his hip before jutting a thumb at the building behind him.  “In any case, she’s slated to play here in about an hour.  Care to grab another drink and head in?”

“Sure,” Yuri said, taking his turn to pay for the both of them.

The venue was a temporary structure, nothing more than a few pieces of arched, heavy sheet metal held together with bolts.  Inside rested an expanse of soundproofing foam on the walls, a modest attempt to keep the outside noise at bay for quieter artists and songs.  Any light in the room was directed at the stage, the rest of the room painted with a grey-blue tone from the shadows cast by the silver walls.  Chairs were spread evenly throughout the space, many of them already taken, but the two were able to find an open pair closer to the front.  

The artist’s set didn’t take long to wait out, leaving them a handful of minutes to find conversation again while the stagehands completed setup for the following act.  Victor left to toss their trash, returning with bottles of water that Yuri was happy to accept, his head starting to throb a bit from the heat and the beer.

“So…” Victor paused, his eyes fixed on the keyboard they were currently plugging in onstage.  “How’s that search for perspective going?”  Yuri glaced at him in surprise, and the other brought his eyes to meet the brunette’s.  “Still feel the way you did before you left?”

“Where’s this coming from?” Yuri asked, shyness running its fingers along his neck while elation at the reference to their previous conversation made his chest feel light.  That Victor remembered their discussion with such specificity implied that he might have valued their meeting as much as Yuri did.

“Just curious,” Victor said with an elusive smile.  “I guess it’s something I saw a bit of myself in.  So I wanted to know how you felt now that you’ve had some time to get out of your head.”

The younger man opened his mouth to speak, self-consciousness closing his throat for a moment as he struggled to think of what he wanted to say.  Victor’s tour of the city had been a sweet gesture that ultimately changed how hostile the world felt.  Their conversation over pasta had empowered Yuri enough to feel less vulnerable whenever he ventured out, making it easier to do so.  Even their meeting had made Yuri more eager to talk to people he wouldn’t have before.  Of course he didn’t feel the same--he was very close to being a different person.  Though the fact that he was hesitating now showed that he wasn’t completely changed.

Still, through some strange, random circumstance, the two had been reunited, and Yuri had the opportunity to make this last longer than the afternoon, if he wanted.  And he did, very much so.  With a hard swallow, he mustered up the entirety of his courage to answer the question as truthfully as he could.

“Things are definitely better.”  There.  He did it.  Good job, Katsuki.

“Are you happier now?”

Well, he supposed he couldn’t get away with that answer.  Time for round two.  Slowly, he inhaled and prepared another response.

“I-I think so.”  Phew.  Made it.  Keep going.  “I have to be honest, though…”  Did he?  Did he really?  He could still stop.  “You made this whole trip easier than I thought it was going to be.”  Did he seriously just say that?  “I-it was terrifying getting off the plane and trying to figure things out.”  Okay, less embarrassing.  Another breath and he could carry on.  “Being with you… Well, you made everything less scary.”  That was true.  The memory (and the beer) doused some of the anxiety bubbling in the back of his head, his thoughts coming to him with more ease.  “I don’t know where I’d be now if I hadn’t met you.  Probably back in Rome.”  He allowed himself to be even more honest.  “Maybe even back home.”

Silence buzzed in his ears beside the booze and the embarrassment, his whole face burning as he turned to face Victor to find that the Russian was beaming.  Bursting with unnamed emotion, his eyes shined in what little light was present in the room, darkness tricking them into thinking the moment was more private than it actually was.  The intimacy was short-lived, however, and as Victor opened his mouth to reply, the woman they came to see stepped out onto the stage.  Cheers drowned out anything the Russian might have said, but his placed his hand atop Yuri’s where it rested on his thigh.  Liquid courage roaring to drown out the sound of his own heartbeat, Yuri turned his palm up to wrap his fingers around Victor’s.  The other silently accepted, tightening his grip for a moment as the singer murmured an introduction to her first piece.

They spent the better part of the next hour and a half like that, though Yuri broke away to pay for the next round.  More importantly, the time out of his seat gave himself some time for a quick breather.  As his drink was poured, Yuri rested his hand over his heart where it thudded in his chest, the force of its pumping nearly knocking it away.  His brain stuttered, thinking in half thoughts that quickly snowballed--cute boy.  Cute boy likes him?  Why does cute boy like him?  Did cute boy have ulterior motives?  If not, surely cute boy would leave once he realized just how unremarkable he was.  Yuri was no one.  Yuri was nothing.  There were a million other people on this earth just like Yuri, and Victor met more of them every day.

Yuri hastily partnered his beer with a shot of Jager in the hopes that it would dissolve the doubts that were rolling around in his head.  It didn’t, but the at least the taste distracted him from them for a moment.

After downing the shot, Victor’s drink was placed on the counter in front of him, and he had no more time to worry; snatching up the plastic cups, Yuri took his seat beside Victor, who was quick to accept with a grin.  As Yuri settled into his chair, he felt his head spin just a little, a fog drifting into the sides of his vision as his surroundings moved just a bit slower than he was used to.

Oh.  He was drunk.

Well.

Victor’s hand found its way back to his, nearly scaring Yuri out of his skin as the Russian dragged his fingers along the lines in Yuri’s palm.  White shocks ran up his arm and spread through the rest of his body, lingering in his hips as he shifted at the contact.  Victor noticed, his eyes meeting Yuri’s in the dark with a silent inquiry:  _ Are you okay? _  The answer wasn’t as simple as a yes or no, but Yuri hoped that the smile he gave to the silver-blond implied that the gesture was welcome, however foreign.

Victor smiled back, lips curling with devilish intent as his fingers traced patterns on the brunette’s palm, a whole host of sensations tingling closely behind them.  Gripping the motion to a stop, Yuri interlaced his fingers with the other, who was seemingly placated at the compromise.

By the end of the show, Yuri had gone from drunk to Pretty Drunk.  At the completion of Imogen’s final song, his cheeks were sore from how long he had been hiding a smile; he was positively giddy at their joined hands.  They parted long enough to applaud, much to Yuri’s chagrin.

As they stepped out of the shelter the enjoy the last moments of light in the day, Victor’s eyes scanned the horizon, squinted against the lowering sun in search of their next adventure.  Keeping his hands out of his pockets, Yuri waited for instruction, eager to follow Victor regardless of his destination.

“What do you think?” the writer asked, glancing at his friend.  “Electronica?  Bluegrass?”

Yuri’s hips thrummed, reminding him of how inactive he’d been for the last few hours.  Once he got to a certain level of intoxication, it became his primary objective to blow off steam in the only way his simplified state would allow: dancing.

“Electronica,” he replied without thinking.  Victor shrugged, unaware of the trap he had walked into.  

“All right.”

His beer was dead by the time they arrived, his heart still thudding as they neared the outdoor stage; the music seemed to want to match it, erratic melodic patterns fluttering in time with each flex of the muscle.  Their eyes met for a moment, Victor smiling as his pale skin warmed in the evening light.  He was beautiful, Yuri thought before wondering what it would be like to touch more of him.  Holding out his hand, Yuri returned the smile, heat steady in his cheeks.

“Dance with me?”

Victor didn’t hesitate, accepting the offer before pulling them closer to the stage.  He laughed as he came to a stop, turning to face Yuri with his hands raised, mocking a ballroom dancer.

“Good sir,” he greeted, and Yuri accepted the invitation.  His hands were all thumbs as he placed them on Victor at random; if he had done something wrong, his partner made no indication as he urged the other to move with the music.  A handful of tracks passed, allowing them to settle into a rhythm.  The brunette brought his eyes to meet the other’s, the beer he had recently finished bringing more boldness with it as it metabolized.

“So tell me about your 10 reasons,” Yuri said with a smirk.

“What?”

“Your article,” as he wrapped Victor with an arm to dip him.  Surprise melted into delight on Victor’s face, an elated chuckle escaping him at the topic.

“I’m sorry, I think I’ve mistaken you for a friend of mine named Yuri,” he said, a bit breathless as he deflected his embarrassment.  “Have you seen him?  Looks like you, but way more shy?”  Yuri grinned.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Victor’s face turned an interesting shade of pink, and Yuri drank up the sight like wine--not that he needed to be more intoxicated.  Did he?  He did.

Yuri felt on top of the world as he held Victor in his arms, empowered at the idea that he had caught Victor off-guard.  Their first meeting had been in a moment of weakness, and Yuri was glad to see himself on a more even playing field with the traveler now that he had regained his footing.  It had only taken some alcohol for him to do so.  Maybe all those warnings had been wrong.  Maybe alcohol really had the  _ opposite  _ effect on Yuri now and, despite all the odds, it made him more suave than he actually was.

After disappearing to ‘visit the restroom’, Yuri was found seated at a nearby table, two empty shot glasses resting on its surface.  He was eating packets of mustard that he had taken from one of the food carts--too hungry to continue dancing, but too frugal to spend more on the vendors.  A cone of frites was in his hand minutes later, Victor giving a quick apology to the victims of the theft in the form of a purchase as he shuffled Yuri away.  

“Where are you staying?  Here?” Victor asked.  The sun had only just set, but the two needed a place to hide for a moment while the younger man came to his senses.

“Hm…” hummed Yuri, remembering his conscious decision to ignore the problem of lodging before drinking heavily.  Not his brightest idea.  “I haven’t… figured that out yet.”  His words were slurred, tongue pressing against the sides of his teeth.  He was learning now that sobriety had its disadvantages, though most of those related to his own alcohol tolerance.

“My place it is,” the Russian declared, taking Yuri’s hand in his own before the Asian could wander off and leading him toward the campgrounds.  Tucked behind a wall of trees, the area housing the tents was particularly dark.  It made Yuri tired, tricking him into thinking it was much later than it was.

Stopping in front of a tent that looked virtually unidentifiable to Yuri in his current state, Victor knelt down to unzip the opening to the six-person shelter.  Behind the canvas rested a large air mattress plopped in the center of the space.  Surrounding it were non-perishables, a small collection of fruit, and water.  Victor seated himself on it as he fiddled with what looked like a lantern in the darkness; Yuri ducked into the doorway, holding his hands behind his back as he awkwardly weighed his options on where to put himself.

“Let’s get you some water,” Victor said as he leaned toward a small collection of plastic bottles near the wall.  “Have a seat.”

Yuri obliged, but placed himself on the opposite side of the mattress, eager to avoid any miscommunication of intent.  The writer didn’t seem to notice or mind, handing a water over to his guest before busying himself with snacks.

“We can head back to the festival to get housing sorted out if you want,” the Russian murmured while opening a box of crackers for Yuri.  The drunk accepted them, cautiously crunching down on the offerings as Victor continued.  “You’re free to stay here as well.  Chris isn’t coming back, so there’s space, if you don’t mind sharing with me.”

“I-I…” it was hard to do more than stutter mindlessly, the proposition bringing with it a host of potential complications.  Victor glanced over as he caught the panicked look in Yuri’s eyes.  If he could see how red the brunette felt, he was generous enough not to mention.  

“Why don’t we worry about it after you get some food?” the Russian suggested.  Relief flooded through Yuri, his boundaries safely intact.  Another cracker popped into his mouth as he agreed, the words he attempted obscured by the munchies.

The next chunk of time was fuzzy for Yuri; eventually, he lowered himself back on the mattress, Victor taking his place beside him as he absentmindedly scrolled through various social media.  Flashes of videos played diligently on an undersized laptop screen appeared at random in his mind’s eye, the sensation of Victor’s head resting on his shoulder the only real reason he remembered the moment.  Bits of conversation pushed through the watery haze of his liquid decisions, about his family, his home, his childhood dog--did he tell Victor that his dog was named Victor, too?  He didn’t remember what was said, but he remembers the steady feeling of the other’s breathing, how it made him feel like he was swimming until Victor draped his arm across Yuri’s chest to weigh him down.

The topic of housing came up again.  Yuri passed out trying to decide.

He awoke early, the morning light gently brushing against the sides of their little haven.  They were atop the sheets, their clothes still intact, and Victor was lodged securely in the crook of Yuri’s arm.  Heartbeat quickening, he struggled to recall most of the night, scanning for potential embarrassment that might give the man that was currently sleeping on him cause to run away.  It came to him in pieces, the innocent parts of the night all that he could manage to recall.

Even without the nervousness, Yuri’s throat was bone dry, each swallow more painful than the last.  There was plenty of water in the tent, of course, but it was just out of arm’s reach.  A small collection of empty bottles mocked him from the ground.  Moving his gaze to the ceiling, he realized that he had two options: Wake Victor… or die.

Well, probably not die.  But be incredibly uncomfortable.  And that was worse.

Yuri moved his hand along Victor’s back, freezing when his fingers ghosted at the skin that peeked out from under his shirt. It was warm, warmer than the crisp air around them, anyway; that heat came from a heart that beat in Victor’s chest, making him a real life person and not something that Yuri’s brain had concocted to make himself feel better.  Immeasurable joy poked through the smog in his head, partnered with the sheer amount of anxiety that came with the realization that reality was usually more complicated and less kind to him than any fantasy.

He wanted to escape, but wanted to savor the moment more.  Wanted to cut things off before he got carried away, and yet eager to be swept away when the still tide of his feelings pulled back to sea.  Being with Victor was… fun.  Easy.  Something bubbled between them, making silent moments feel full with the other’s presence.  Nothing needed to be said, but there was no difficulty in talking.

Victor stirred, a crackly hum escaping him as he lifted his head, sky blue eyes filling Yuri’s vision from behind messy bangs.  The moment was gone, and Yuri was forced to make a choice.

“Yuri?” the writer murmured, pushing his fringe back with his fingers.  Yuri somehow found it even more difficult to swallow.

“I-I need water,” he croaked with a dry tongue, gently pulling his arm out from under Nikiforov.  Victor exhaled through his nose, too sleepy to open his mouth, and lifted himself minimally to assist. 

Two more empty bottles joined the others on the floor, and the Russian grinned, pushing himself up into a sitting position to rest his head against Yuri’s, the hum of his voice buzzing in Yuri’s skull.

“Rough night?”

Their utter closeness sent his brain ricocheting.  Flinching, he turned to pull away from the other, skin still tingling were it was previously met.  It was a little too much, too fast, but as soon as Yuri faced Victor, he regretted his decision to move.

“Sorry,” Katsuki said sheepishly, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.  “I didn’t mean to be an imposition.”

“No problem.  I offered, remember?”  He yawned, seemingly unbothered by Yuri’s abrupt refusal.  

“I wasn’t--I didn’t do anything…” The brunette trailed off, unable to finish the thought.  A good portion of the last 8 hours was missing, and though Yuri had previously warned Victor of his poor habit of embarrassing himself while under the influence, but there was always a chance that the Russian hadn’t truly understood what he meant.  “...inappropriate, did I?”

The writer smirked as though the question were absurd.

“No,” he said, leaning in to kiss Yuri briefly on the mouth.  Pulling back, Victor bent over the other’s legs to gather the bottles that had been abandoned, blissfully unaware that Yuri had ceased to function as soon as their lips had touched.

The moment had come and gone without acknowledgement, as though the peck were the most natural thing in the world to Nikiforov.  Yuri, however, was host to a multitude of feelings that were dammed up by the casual nature of the kiss.  Should he say something?  Should he kiss him again?  Savoring it this time sounded much more fun.

“Want some breakfast?” Victor continued to be impossibly relaxed as he busied himself with tidying from the night before.  It was thoroughly intimidating.

“Victor.” Yuri heard himself say, the owner of the name turning to face his addresser.  The brunette’s face was already halfway to meeting the other’s before he’d finished, exhaling heavily as he brought their lips together for another kiss.  It was a little too overzealous, the quickness of it tricking him into thinking it would be easier to do than it actually was.

This time lasted much longer, the writer bringing his hand to cup behind Yuri’s ear as his fingers firmly cradled the back of his head.  Victor inhaled slowly when they stilled, the sound of his steady inhalation making the moment feel like it passed at half speed.  When they broke apart, he smiled through a single laugh, the look of it making Yuri feel dizzy.

“Come on,” Victor said, slipping on his shoes.  “I’m hungry.”

They made their way to a spot 10 minutes down the road, tall white buildings with red wooden trim lining the street on either side.  It was picturesque Bavaria, the trees painted a vibrant green from the summer sun.  If Yuri’s stomach hadn’t been flipping from the lack of food the day before, he might have been disappointed when they arrived at the cafe Victor lead them to, if only because it didn’t allow them to enjoy the morning more.   Yuri paid for coffee and pastries, eager to make amends for whatever drunken escapades he might have performed, before joining Victor at a chair near the window.  He seemed to bask, so at peace with where things were that Yuri couldn’t help but feel self conscious at the way his heart nearly rattled in his chest every time he tried to look at Nikiforov.

“A-Are you here for the weekend?” He tried to play it cool, unsure of how to start the conversation he wanted to.

“No, unfortunately,” Victor said, thanking the waitress as she dropped off their drinks.  Yuri’s body felt a little more heavy when he reached for the yellow mug that belonged to him.  “I’m leaving early Sunday.”

“Where are you headed this time?” Yuri asked as he quietly counted up the hours they had left.  Victor hesitated.

“I’m visiting some family in St. Petersburg.”

“Oh.”  Silence dropped in for a moment before Yuri decided to propel conversation forward.  “Any reason?”

“Illness.”  Though the expression on Victor’s face was pleasant, there was something amiss in the simplicity of the answer.  It implied that the writer was not keen on elaborating further.

“Sorry to hear that,” Yuri offered lamely, and his conversation partner nodded, taking a long sip of his coffee as he glanced outside.  “I think I might go to New York.  A friend of mine lives there.  He said he could probably find me some work.”  The asian was eager to get conversation moving in a direction that Victor might be more comfortable with.

“An American?  Did you meet them in Europe?”  

“No, he was an exchange student when I was in high school.”

More quiet.  More sips.

“Do you want to talk about this morning?” Victor veered the subject like the car on the brink of a crash, but Yuri didn’t mind the jerk--in fact, he was actively hoping for it.

“Yes,” he sighed in relief, hands rushing to his face as his now-acknowledged emotions flooded to color his skin.  The Russian laughed.

“Sorry if I surprised you,” Victor said.  

“I-I guess I should apologize too, in that case,” the brunette replied through his palms, his glasses all but steaming from the heat in his cheeks.

“Why?” the writer asked, and Yuri peeked through his fingers, lowering them to get a better look at the man across from him.  “I liked it.  Did you like it?”

A moment passed before the Asian responded, willing his body to move long enough to nod once.  Victor laughed again, this time with a tint of sadness.

“Then I guess that means we’re in trouble, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say "AU BANQUET SHENANIGANS"? No? Just me? Oh.
> 
> Thank you for checking this out! I'm hoping I can get another chapter out before the end of May, so please keep an eye out!


	3. New York.

_So what's your last name?_

Nikiforov sent him the message in the evening some days later, when Yuri was in Berlin, the younger man receiving it as he explored a park riddled with monuments.  Tiergarten, if memory served.  At roughly 210 hectares in size, it was among the largest--no, no, no, he was not going to go off on a fact tangent when his cute Russian man-friend had managed to sneak a response to him on the spotty wifi he could grab.

 _Katsuki,_ he replied as he gazed at a cluster of heads submerged in concrete--an installation relating to global warming, if he recalled correctly.

 _What does it mean?_ Victor inquired some time later as Yuri walked along the graffiti'd remains of the Berlin Wall.

 _It means I like pork._ Yuri’s replies were always instantaneous after receiving.  He was sure he was breaking some rule about courtship, but he didn’t really care, and it didn’t seem that Victor did, either.

_lmao_

Yuri didn't have the heart to insist that it wasn't entirely a joke.  Mostly because his heart constricted when he realized he wouldn't know when he'd actually hear Victor laugh again.

Shaking away the thought, Yuri quickened his pace back towards the city before hopping on an S-Bahn.  As he waited for his stop to approach, his urge to visit New York recurred to him.  Maybe it was because Europe felt a little too lonely now that the silver-haired stranger had left it.  Maybe it was because Berlin lacked some of the classic charm of Bavaria and he was motivated to leave it faster.  But while these excuses were perfectly valid, there was another, very important reason to visit the US: it contained one of his oldest friends.

Phichit Chulanont lived in Staten Island, one of the 4 boroughs surrounding the island of Manhattan.  The two had met in high school, when Phichit was chosen to be an exchange student during Yuri’s final year.  Why they had sent him to Podunk, Kyushu was anybody’s guess, but it had resulted in quite the bromance between the two of them, so Phichit had never thought to complain.  Though the Thai-American had only managed to visit once or twice after graduation, their relationship retained the same wonderful chemistry thanks to AOL Instant Messenger (something Yuri had downloaded at Phichit’s insistence), Skype, and eventually Discord.  But as he opened the door to his hostel dorm and flopped heavily on the unforgiving spring mattress resting on the bottom bunk, the app he opened today was Facebook messenger.  His roommates were gone, probably out enjoying the early evening with some drinks, like most red-blooded 20-somethings.

 _Hey_ , Yuri said, because even with his best friend he could not escape the pain of his own awkwardness.  Particularly since this conversation would involve him asking for a pretty big favor.

 _Howdy!_ Phichit’s cheerful reply came instantly.  He was always online--it came with the territory working as a social media manager, and while the night in Berlin had precious few hours left, Phichit’s day in New York was barely halfway done.  Though to be honest, Phichit had always been addicted to the invisible series of tubes that kept the world connected.  He was just lucky enough to find a job that enabled his dependency.   _How’s my favorite wanderer?_

_You know more than one?_

_Does it matter?  You’re still my favorite!_

_Fair enough,_ Yuri shrugged with a hint of a smile, though Phichit couldn’t see it.  

_Where are you today?_

_Berlin.  But I’m thinking_ _  
_ _about leaving soon._

 

_Oh?  Where’s the drifter off to now?_

 

_...Well…_

Yuri didn’t get the chance to finish his thought before a response materialized immediately.

_YES_

_You don’t even know_ _  
_ _what I was gonna say!_

 _YES I DO YOU WERE GONNA_ _  
_ _SAY YOU WANTED TO COME HERE_

 _...Okay.  I guess you did._ _  
_ _Is it okay?_

_YES WHEN ARE YOU COMING_

_When would be okay?  How_ _  
_ _long would you like me to stay?_

_FOREVER_

_Uh_

_Fine then as long as you_ _  
_ _want I guess whatever_

 _I gotta leave town_  
_in a few weeks.  You can_  
_still crash, though, I’ll just_  
_make you a key._  
_OH you can take care of_ _  
_ _my plants for me!!_

Yuri’s plans had apparently graduated from ‘brief visit’ to ‘moving in’.  Not that he was complaining, of course.  It was par for the course with Phichit--once he got something in his head, it was hard to stop the idea from snowballing into something spectacular.  And Phichit was not the sort of person to let his fantastical whimsies remain mere fantasies.

Once the American had gotten the capslock out of his system, a plane ticket to JFK was purchased almost immediately (much to Phichit’s chagrin, Yuri could not afford Newark).  His application for a visa waiver was sent off shortly after.  As he opened his email to double check the receipt, the silver-haired stranger pinged him once again.  Pushing his heart out of his throat, Yuri tapped the notification with a shaking finger to see what Victor had to say.

 _No fair, you don’t have anything_  
_embarrassing on the internet_ _  
when I search your name._

Yuri grinned, his solitude allowing him to express himself with no remorse.  

 _It’s easy.  You just have_ _  
_ _to be boring, Mr. Nikiforov._

He received another message later on the following day.

 _I don’t know.  This doesn’t  
_ _look very boring to me._  

A selfie appeared in the chat window, one he had taken with Phichit several years ago--they were in costume, Phichit opting to dress up as a foppish villain from a kid’s show about card games while Yuri chose something far more classic.  It was taken on a train as they headed to an anime convention in Tokyo before Yuri had even graduated high school.  The day was such a nice memory that he couldn’t bother to feel awkward about it.

 _When were you going to_  
_tell me that you were the_ _  
_ _Hero of Time?_

It took Yuri some time to respond, having picked up some work in the city that made wifi difficult to come by.  

 _I wanted to make sure you_  
_liked me for me.  I get so_ _  
tired of the hero worship_.

Victor responded the next evening as Yuri waited to board the flight that would eventually take him to the states.  

 _I bet!  I admit, if I had known_  
_you were him sooner, I would_  
_have asked you to wear the_  
_Red Tunic.  I always thought_ _  
_ _you looked sexiest in that one. ;)_

The response left Yuri feeling a little weak.  The gorgeous, fearless man who had taken pity on him in a train station liked videogames.  Not only that, but liked videogames enough to talk _nerdy_ to him.

He shifted in his airplane seat as the craft pulled back from the gate at the Berlin airport, excitement at the prospect of a partner having an even somewhat passable knowledge of gaming tingling in his legs.  At home, frequent teasing of his interests made him less inclined to share them.

Pausing a moment, he caught his usage of the word ‘partner’, curiously examining the little twist in his stomach that came with it.  He tossed it aside, eager to avoid disappointment if Victor was not as interested in him as he was quickly becoming in Victor.

 _So wait,_ Yuri tapped out on his screen while waiting for his plane to reach the gate in London Heathrow, a single dot signifying that he was clinging to wifi in the terminal for dear life.   _At the festival, you said you liked Imogen Heap's SOLO album?  Was she part of a group?_

This response came just before he needed to board his following flight, and bore a gift in the form of a compressed file simply named ‘Details’.  

 _You haven’t heard of Frou Frou?_  
_My friend.  I’m so jealous.  I wish_ _  
I could hear them again for the first time._

Yuri grinned when the attachment downloaded, eager to hear more from an artist he dearly loved, but even more excited to share in something new with the man he was now leaving even further behind.

 

*   *   *

 

Sunday morning at the festival had come far too quickly.  Its arrival was pleasant enough, with Yuri blinking through sleep to find that he was still wrapped tightly in Victor’s arms.  The Russian’s chest pressed firmly into his back, face tucked in the corner where his neck met his shoulder; Victor’s steady breathing through an open mouth filled his ear.  

They had spent the night together again, though this one involved less alcohol and more late-night conversation that Yuri could actually recall.  In fact, they had spent the whole day together, the idea of separating after acknowledging their mutual attraction having little appeal to either of them as precious minutes ticked away, leaving them closer to the moment Yuri was surprised he had come to dread so much--Victor’s departure.  Their talk over breakfast went well, though they agreed that they were hesitant to label anything between them after only spending a couple of days together.  Still, the hours shared in each other’s company were not free from physical expression of their interest--by the end of the day, they were no strangers to long, half-lidded glances, hesitant hand-holds, and chaste kisses.

Yuri could feel a heat in his face at the memory of bringing his lips to Victor’s the previous morning after waking; it had been the first time he had ever instigated something like that, and was not the last, though he was much less frequent in his offer of kisses than Victor.  His heartbeat quickened as he recalled Victor asking for permission later in the day as they stopped to wait in line for a drink.  It had been so simple--”Can I kiss you?”--his face bright and friendly, a secret grin betraying his giddiness at the request.  Yuri had blushed, much like he was doing now, and hesitantly nodded before tilting his head up to acquiesce.  Accepting the attention was almost as terrifying as receiving it, but the rush of emotion that came with it--acceptance, insecurity, excitement, uncertainty, joy--was well worth the effort.

Bringing his hands to his face in the tent, Yuri tried to pull back from the thoughts that were now starting to overwhelm him.  It wasn’t as though they were negative, but the sun had barely risen and he was still struggling to stay awake; he was simply too tired to process them all.  Yuri took a deep breath between his palms before pulling them apart to peek through the opening.  As his heart fluttered at another one of Victor’s inhales, he knew more than anything that, in this moment--even with the looming eventuality of Victor’s departure--he was happy.

Victor stirred at the movement, pulling Yuri closer to him as he nuzzled into the crook of the younger man’s neck; Yuri couldn’t stop the smile that came with the thought that Victor’s first impulse before waking was to hold him.  He could feel Victor’s thighs shift against the backs of his own legs, the sensations from the movement pooling low in his stomach.  Gently, Yuri shifted away from the other man, eager to avoid any awkward situations that might arise from further contact.  Though he didn’t like pulling away from the writer, he did so to roll on his other side, his fingers moving of their own accord to trace along the fine line of Victor’s jaw.

“Hello,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and uncertainty.  Victor furrowed his brows, a dark line appearing between them as he squinted to greet the day and the nervous Japanese man that had left his grip.  Yuri noticed that the Russian’s skin was extra pale in the morning, his blue eyes even more striking in the dim light.

“Yuri,” he grunted back, clearly less than eager to be conscious.  Despite his grumpy expression, however, he still brought his face in for a kiss, their dry lips making it less than sensual but the contact still trickling a sweet softness through Yuri’s body.  He was elated to touch Victor, regardless of how ‘imperfect’ it was.  “What time is it?”

Fumbling for his phone, Yuri eventually found it, the digits on the screen feeling like a warning.

“6:45.  What time is your train?”

Another grunt.  Victor rolled onto his back, the butts of his palms pressed against his eyes.

“8:30.”

Sadness crept into the space, once a haven from the outside world.  Neither of them spoke, Victor turning his head towards Yuri without bringing his gaze to meet the other’s.  For a split second, something ached in Yuri’s chest as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Come on.  We should get you packed.”

Before Yuri could turn around they were at the train station, the taller traveler leaning over to bring a soft mouth to meet his own.  Familiar colors burned in his body at the touch, the sensation shifting as Victor moved to carefully cup the side of his face.  A gooey sweetness gathered in his chest as he fought to hide the giddy feeling that came with touching Victor, but their inevitable separation made the battle easier. Yuri’s lips were still buzzing when the writer hopped on the train to Stuttgart.  It continued as he walked out of the station and entered the walls of the city proper to explore.  The thought of returning to the festival left Yuri with such a pervasive feeling of restlessness that he couldn’t stand the idea, and so avoided it with further sightseeing.  As far as he was concerned, he had more than gotten his money’s worth.

There had been no time to eat before shoving Victor off to the horizon, so Yuri found another small cafe nearby, tucked on the inside edge of the towering dark brick barrier.  It had wifi, and the brunette had yet to check his email since arriving.  It had also been _quite_ a while since he had checked in with his parents; they most likely wanted to know that he was still alive.  Much to his surprise, a message from Victor was already waiting in his inbox, sent only a few minutes after he had given his contact information to him.

_Do you miss me yet?_

Yuri would never admit the rush of relief he felt at being texted first.

So started a chain of messages that never really seemed to end, the steady stream of conversation flowing through several days and weeks at random intervals.  

Yuri was jostled awake when the plane touched down in New York; he wasn’t sure when he had gained the ability to sleep while traveling, but it was certainly a recent development.  The disappointment he felt at missing the view of their descent was quickly pushed aside by the sheer excitement that came with the realization that he was mere minutes from seeing his oldest friend.

Phichit was waiting with a sign near baggage claim, Yuri’s name flashing at him in metallic red and gold lettering.  He had hardly changed at all, his brown body still as slight as ever; Yuri had always envied the subtle curve of his sides between his chest and hips.  Pitch black fringe stopped short of a pair of eyes that were nearly as dark, and a white smile cracked his face before he ran over to envelop the Japanese man in a warm hug.

“Yuuuuuri-chan!” Phichit sang, knowing the endearment annoyed his friend.

“Pitshit!” Yuri returned in kind, needling back with a butchered version of the American’s name.  It had been a poor attempt at pronunciation by a substitute teacher during Phichit’s year in Japan, one that had tickled Yuri so much that he tucked it away for special occasions.  It rustled Phichit’s feathers, enough that Yuri couldn’t feel guilty for using it, and this time was no exception; the darker-skinned man donned a sour expression as he pulled away, brows furrowed as he pouted.

“You’re lucky I like you, Katsuki,” he said easily in Japanese, syllables forced through pursed lips.  There was a small amount of relief that Yuri felt at being spoken to in his native tongue, though there was plenty of comfort in knowing that his chances of miscommunication had dropped significantly now that he was in an English-speaking country.

Yuri wrapped his friend in another embrace, Phichit’s arms struggling to reach around the circumference of the bag strapped to his back.  Craning his neck around Yuri’s shoulder, Phichit looked at the offender with a bright smile.

“Is this everything you brought?” he asked in surprise, dark eyes wide.  Yuri confirmed it was with a nod.  “How long have you been away from home?”

“I dunno,” Yuri replied, throwing his arm around Phichit’s shoulder as the two walked in step towards the exit.  “Close to 8 weeks, I think?”

The other’s tongue clicked loudly, regarding Yuri with as much disbelief as he could muster.  As he shook his head, Phichit said, “I don’t know how you manage without checking a bag.”

While not particularly fashion-forward, Phichit had a deep love of clothing.  Regardless of where he was or how long he stayed there, Phichit was capable of filling any closet he came across.  In fact, if he put any real effort into the search, Yuri was certain that he’d still be able to find quite a few of Phichit’s things squirreled away in his own wardrobe.  The American had a love of thrift stores and was known to raid them fairly frequently--they catered to his parsimonious tendencies while providing him with a wide variety of choices.  Yuri tried to hide a grin as he imagined his friend’s distress at being asked to downsize enough to match his own load.

Exiting out the glass doors, Yuri blinked as his eyes adjusted to the weak dawn light.  Or was it dusk?  He wasn’t sure.  Yuri followed his friend to a courtesy shuttle, the lack of sleep settling into him, making his legs feel heavy.  Phichit grinned as he gestured for Yuri to precede him onto the coach with a slender arm.  The door hissed to a close as they sat near the back of the empty vehicle, the rough, grey seats speckled with triangles of color; the design was one that looked as though it hadn’t been popular for the better part of two decades.

“We’ll get off at the first stop,” Phichit explained, rifling through the beige messenger bag that was looped around his neck in search of his keys.  Yuri watched him absentmindedly, tiredness tugging at his eyelids in an attempt to keep him from spotting the laminated ‘WI-FI LOGIN’ sign.  It did not succeed.  “Sorry for the extra time.  There’s a lot next to this one that gives you 2 hours free, so I like to park there when I go to the airport.”

Phichit was one of those people who didn’t really need to save money, but lived in a way that implied his life depended on it.  He was clever in his methods, lurking behind stores to collect discarded produce, comparison shopping at multiple grocers, exercising frugality when it came to his usage of utilities.  He was a chicken-and-fish-vegetarian, mostly because red meat and pork were too pricey.  Cutting budgetary corners was like a game to Phichit, and seeing his face light up when he’d managed to find a particularly good deal was oddly endearing, despite the tediousness of his shopping habits.  

It was hard to argue with the results--at 20 years old, Phichit had nearly paid off a new-to-him car while managing to afford rent in an apartment on his own.  Commuting sucked, but at least it was better than Jersey.  That’s what Phichit would say on days where conversation over Discord was slow and they settled for small talk, anyway.  Yuri would soon learn that he said it anytime they rode the ferry to the city as well.  Life everywhere in the world was full to the brim with compromises, it seemed.

Yuri nodded at his friend’s explanation, feeling his heart rattle when he connected to the bus’ wifi.  It was his turn to respond.

_I didn’t know you were a gamer.  Favorite game?_

Victor’s response came almost immediately, the opposite bubble returning just as Phichit tapped on Yuri’s arm to let him know they were disembarking.  Stepping onto the asphalt, Phichit proudly made his way out of the front door of the parking garage, arm looped cheerfully around his friend’s elbow as they made their way to an abandoned grocery store lot.  The day had become a bit more brighter in the length of their short trip, which meant that Yuri had been correct in assuming it was disgustingly early in the morning.  But now he had a new mystery to solve: how in the hell Phichit was so energetic at this hour.

The car waiting for them was a burnt red Volkswagen Beetle, parked alone near the sidewalk, and Yuri heaved a sigh of relief as he ducked down into the vehicle.

“Hungry?” Phichit all but chirped, eyes squinted in a happy smile.  In all the time they’d known each other, Yuri wasn’t quite sure that he had ever seen Phichit so upbeat.  But then again, it had been quite a while since Yuri had seen Phichit in the first place.

“I don’t even remember the last time I ate, honestly,” he replied, slumberdrunkenness loosening his tongue.

“Great!  I know a place.  You like bagels?”

Yuri frowned.

“You know… I don’t think I’ve had one?”

This was deeply offensive to Phichit, or so his speechless noise following the declaration seemed to imply.  As the American launched into an attempt to voice his feelings about Yuri’s apparently barren life, the Asian quickly opened up his phone to read the response that Victor had snuck to him before Yuri was disconnected.

 _Hahah. Gamer might be generous._  
_I’ve owned just about every Nintendo_ _  
_ _console for Zelda, and that’s about it._

Yuri’s fingers itched to respond, the sensation lingering on their tips as he turned the screen off and tucked the useless device back in his pocket.  Shortly after, Phichit pulled them into a small parking lot nestled beside a store that wasn’t much larger.  Its exterior was a deep green, the names of several pastries, buns, and breads written in varying fonts on the windows that lined the front.  Inside, the walls were a warm brown, complimented by the sand-colored countertops that lined the opposite side of the room.  Gazing into the largest glass case, Yuri took careful stock of the morning’s freshly baked goodies, pausing only to connect to wifi when he saw it advertised--his heart skipped a beat when he felt his phone buzz less than a second after doing so.

“What can I get you?” The kindly clerk’s question was ignored by one half of the room.

“Good question,” Phichit replied, glancing over at his friend, who was currently trying to break the speed record for opening a Facebook message.  “Yuri?”

A guilty glance met the Thai-American’s, cheeks turning a light pink as Yuri realized that he hadn’t actually taken the time to choose anything yet, nor could he say he really cared.  At this point, he just wanted food.

“I-I’m not sure.  What do you like?”

“Two sausage breakfast bagels, please,” Phichit ordered without a second thought as he pulled out his wallet.  In his mind, the leap that Yuri performed to block his friend from paying for his meal was in slow-motion, dramatic, something straight out of an action movie--of course, to a bystander it looked more like the Asian simply stepped in front of the other man, but the way Yuri’s heartbeat thumped against his chest from the near-miss made it feel much more dramatic.

After finding seats, Yuri’s nose was back in his phone.

 _You know, I lied, I think this_ _  
_ _costume would suit you much more._

Another photo was attached to Victor’s message, this one much more horrifying than the last; it contained a cursed image of Tingle, the franchise’s joke character.  He was a middle-aged man with a grotesquely detailed face, his small, rotund body on full display in a green body-suit.  Only a red pair of briefs broke up the expanse of color, calling more attention to the particularly lumpy parts.

_why_

It was all Yuri could manage in response.  Another image appeared, this one much more pleasant--Victor’s face stared back at him with a sly smile, index finger hovering over his lips as he winked a blue eye at the recipient.  A smile plastered itself on his face as he traced the faint lines at the corners of Victor’s mouth before going to read the text that came with it.

 _I couldn’t help myself._ _  
_ _Forgive me?_

Before he could respond, their food had arrived, the staffer gingerly placing two white, plastic plates on the dark wood surface of the table.

“Okay, spill.” Phichit said after a quick thank you to the employee, grabbing his breakfast with both hands to take a hearty bite.

“Huh?” Yuri clicked off the screen before placing the device on the table, though he knew from the goofy expression that still lingered on his features that he had been caught.

“You’ve been checking your phone anytime you can smell the internet nearby.”  Though Phichit’s mouth was full, Yuri could still understand most of what came out of it.  “What’s up?”

Yuri’s heart seized in his chest; his… association with Victor was complicated.  They were friendly.  Yuri might even like to call them friends.  And their interest in each other was certainly mutual.  But the newness to everything made their relationship feel fragile or fleeting, as though one word about it to the wrong person would shatter it.  Not that Phichit was the wrong person--Phichit would _never_ be the wrong person--but Yuri didn’t quite know what to say or how to explain what was going on because he hadn’t quite wrapped his head around it.

So he lied.

“Uh… Just checking my visa status,” Yuri muttered out something believable, something that Phichit wasn’t able to easily question.  “Couldn’t remember how long it lasts… You know how I get when something like that freaks me out.”

Phichit was already frowning before the other could finish the thought.  “Bull, you’ve got Facebook open.  Who are you talking to?”

“N-No one…”  Shit.  He was sorely underestimating his friend’s nose for drama.

“Someone from home?  Yuko?”

“No,” Yuri replied.  That was easy, since it was true, but Phichit’s face brightened--he was on the scent.  

“Someone you met in Europe?”  Yuri felt his cheeks darken as he opened his mouth to speak, and Phichit was pointing wildly in delight before his friend could respond.

“A _ha!_  I knew it!”  His sandwich all but forgotten, Phichit rested his chin on upturned palms as he pried for more details.  “What’s their name?”

“...Victor.”  He’d hardly said the name sober.  It had a sweet taste to it, the memories of the precious few hours they had spent together still locked and filed carefully away in his mind.

“Is Victor cute?”

Yuri swallowed, trying to ignore another notification that lit up his screen.  Having caught the faint indication of a new message, Phichit snatched the phone away from his friend, hurriedly opening it up to spy on what had been sent.  As his stomach churned, Yuri kept his hands clamped firmly around his knees as he waited for a reaction.

“Aww!” The American cooed, turning the device around for Yuri to see Victor’s latest correspondence.  Another image was in the conversation now, this one of an older, brown poodle.  Specks of grey peppered its muzzle and the fur around its eyes.  It greeted Yuri with a wide smile and fat tongue.  “Is this his dog?”

Yuri shrugged, calm pooling in his joints now that his friend knew, but still eager to reclaim his phone before Phichit came across their flirtatious nerdy talk.  “Let me ask.”

A message accompanied the photo.

 _I didn’t make you mad, did I?_ _  
_ _Can I make up for it with a cute dog?_

Yuri tapped out a quick response.

_Is he yours?_

_My parents’.  But he’s been_  
_around most of my life.  I think_ _  
he’s close to 12 now?_

 _Well, he’s very cute._ _  
_ _Your apology is accepted._

The exchange was all he had time for before Phichit had managed to find him on social media and was verbally reacting to his photos.  The rest of the meal was spent fielding giddy congratulations from his friend, who apparently thought that Victor was quite handsome.  Or so his multiple declarations seemed to imply.

Phichit’s apartment wasn’t anything particularly nice, but it was homey.  After arriving, Yuri was given the grand tour of the one bedroom, one bath with views of a park that Phichit had named and Yuri had already forgotten.  Now that he was fed and in a position that would not require him to move, his brain was slowly shutting down, body telling him it was a completely different time of day.  It had been nearly 2 months since he had traveled far enough to experience jetlag, and he forgot how hard it hit.

Graciously, Phichit had already set up a sleeping area in his living room, chirping that he figured his friend would be in need of a nap when he arrived.  The pull-out sofa bed, as it turned out, was less than ideal--its cheap pricetag came with a fatal design flaw, namely that it would collapse in on itself whenever anyone tried to lay down on its deceptively inviting surface.  Upon hearing the cries of alarm from the other room, Phichit quickly saved his new roommate from the couch that was attempting to eat him before yanking the mattress off and onto the floor.

Confident that he was safe from harm (or, at the very least, too tired to care about said harm), Yuri quickly passed out, quiet surroundings settling into his subconscious.  He’d wake up somewhere new, but this time, he wouldn’t be alone.

 

*   *   *

 

Weeks passed; Yuri had a new routine now in New York, picking up odd shifts at a convenience store near Phichit’s place.  It was the only work he could get that was willing to pay under the table, and it gave him just enough for food, transport, and an occasional peace offering to his generous host.  Some days, it even allowed for him to tuck some extra away for the next leg of his journey.  Wherever that ended up being.

He smiled; before, the idea of endless destinations seemed intimidating.  Now he nearly reveled in it.  But of course, the opportunity to stay with his long-distance friend was one he was immensely grateful for.

Yuri could still remember how nervous Phichit had been introducing him to the owner of the store he now worked at, a man named Amil--he was a kind person who liked to help out his community by giving work to those who might have trouble otherwise finding it.  Having been an immigrant himself, Amil knew how difficult acclimating to living somewhere else could be.  Still, Phichit’s awkwardness in broaching the subject was second to none.

“Do you still accept help from… _undocumented_ sources?”  He spoke in code, as though any dormant government workers lying in wait nearby wouldn’t be able to understand.  Despite having pirated enough movies and music to start his own online platform for digital downloads, wonderful, pure, sweet Phichit was reduced to a child that was turning itself in for swearing when it came to ‘real-life’ crime.  He was a funny beacon of lawful good in all cases excepting the internet, which made his skirting around the law for his friend all the more meaningful.  Yuri felt loved, unable to hide a beaming expression as his new boss briefed him quickly on hours and rate of pay.

Though the greater time difference made things difficult, Yuri and Victor still found the ability to stay in touch, the glowing screen of his phone an ever-present bookmark to Yuri’s days in the Big Apple.  Or… just outside it, anyway.  They would usually text sometime in the morning, shortly after Yuri had woken up, or late into the night, the short exchanges puttering to a stop when the brunette would eventually pass out.  

After being given an unlocked phone from Phichit, Yuri was able to purchase a local SIM card to allow himself to operate off of data networks instead of living between patches of wifi, which closed the gap in his communications with the Russian down to the hours that they spent asleep.  Victor responded just as quickly and with as much enthusiasm as his conversation partner, and the phrase ‘I miss you’ became more frequently peppered throughout their talks.  The first time he had seen it waiting patiently on the screen, Yuri felt his heart wrench from a million different emotions--anxiety, uncertainty, elation, pride.  It signified that what was between them was not as casual as they thought.  He responded in kind as quickly as he had seen it, terror at the admission bubbling in his guts.

 _I’m glad._  Victor had responded, prompting a shy smile from Yuri nearly 7000 kilometers away.  There was relief in his reaction, in knowing that the Asian wasn’t the only one who felt the way he did, even though it had been hinted at time and time again.  Disbelief at his own situation tended to make him forget.

Their exchanges grew to a near fevered frequency, both foregoing sleep to squeeze in a few extra minutes with the other when obligations got in the way.  Few moments would pass in Yuri’s day that were free of thoughts of the Russian, each new thought accompanied with a familiar twist of his heart.  In any unspoken hours that Victor was asleep, Yuri found himself engaging in things that reminded him of the man that had now claimed nearly every moment of his daily life.  

 _I miss you_ , he quickly tapped out after seeing a movie with a leading man who had a grin that reminded him of his beau.

 _Miss you,_ he mournfully typed after reading a book where a relationship went south.

 _Aaaaaugh,_ he lamented after watching a particularly steamy scene in his favorite TV show.  Yuri, of course, would never elaborate on why that day was any more frustrating than the rest of them, no matter how much Victor would poke him.

But Victor, it seemed, was on the same wavelength, though his displays of… frustration were not as vague as Yuri’s.  His tended to manifest as blatant flirting, though Victor had shame enough to pretend he was being coy.  Messages would start out innocently enough, but as time crept forward the Russian’s innuendos grew in frequency.  

Six weeks since Yuri’s departure from Europe (and subsequently, since their last meeting) came and went in a slow blink of an eye with mountains of chat logs to prove it.  It was halfway through August now, and the evening was hot; Yuri was draped across his mattress in its usual spot in Phichit’s living room, clad in only a pair of dark boxer-briefs while watching a chattering television through low-lidded eyes--he feared opening them further would only dry them out.  The brunette had never been much of a TV junkie before leaving home, but for whatever reason he found himself watching it more frequently in the hours that the Russian would be asleep.  Restlessness found its way to him more easily in this time of day, but there was a certain heaviness to his limbs in the time that he was alone that made it difficult for him to want to do anything aside from waiting to see if he could catch Victor before he started his day.  Usually he’d humor that urge until Phichit came home from work and peeled him off the floor to eat dinner.  The hours leading up to bed where always littered with sighs.

But today would be different, it seemed.  His phone chirped, the noise unique to the Facebook Messenger app ringing out like the world’s shortest song.  Yuri rolled over, brows furrowed as he reached for his phone; the sour expression was soon removed when he read who it was from.  As a smile spread itself across his lips, the brunette quickly unlocked his screen to reveal a new text beside a grinning face half-obscured with silver hair.

 _Looks like my friend canceled_  
_on our movie date. I was so_  
_looking forward to ogling Chris_ _  
_ _Evans for two hours, too_

 _You’re up late.  What time is it over there, 2am?_ Yuri replied, his fingers tripping over themselves as they moved a little too quickly.

_Yeah, I can’t sleep._

_Oh.  Sorry to hear that._

 

He really wasn’t, but foregoing his ingrained politeness was too difficult.

 _I’m not.  Now that I’ve_  
_given up on sleep I_ _  
_ can talk to you more. <3

There was a pinch of pain in Yuri’s cheeks, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because he had been smiling for too long.  Willing himself to relax, he changed the subject.

 _Why don’t you just go_ _  
_ _to the movie by yourself?_

 _Mmph._ Yuri had quickly learned that these were the four letters Victor would use to voice a negative reaction.   _Going alone is no fun.  Come with me._

 _Sure.  Give me 20 hours_ _  
_ _and I’ll be right there._

 _I’m not sure I’d want_  
_to go see anything while_ _  
_ _you’re here, though_

Yuri’s heartbeat quickened in his ears as a blush crept all the way down to his fingertips

_What do you mean?_

He played dumb, not wanting to assume what Victor meant, mostly because he still had trouble believing that Victor found him attractive.

 _I… just think we_  
_could find better_ _  
ways to pass the time._

Okay, well… Maybe it wasn’t that hard to believe, after all.

 _Did you have something_ _  
_ _specific in mind?_

Yuri remained steadfastly innocent, eager but terrified to see where his line of questioning would lead.  His inexperience rang in his ears like an alarm bell, making it difficult to concentrate on playing along.

 _I’m just saying that if you_ _  
_ happen _to be in my house…_

There was a painful pause, each period that trailed after the sentence carving into his heart.

 _And we_ happen _to find_  
_ourselves alone together_  
_for the first time in nearly_ _  
two months…_

The seconds ticked by.  Yuri swallowed.  

 _Well.  I’m just not sure_  
_I’d find a movie that_ _  
interesting anymore._

_So let’s say that I’m there.  You show_  
_me into your home.  I compliment its_  
_loveliness. I turn, look you right in  
the eye, and whisper, “Mr. Nikiforov…”_

 

_I’m listening…_

_“...I would like to do nothing more_  
_than to accompany you to see the_  
_latest film at the closest theater.”  
Would you really turn me down?_

A small, pleased grin peeked out of Yuri’s features.

_Well, first of all, no kiss hello?  Rude._

_Okay, so you open the door_ _  
_ _and give me a kiss hello._

Victor responded before Yuri was able to go back to teasing him.

_You enter my home, and I give you the grand tour._  
_I kiss you in the sitting room._  
_I kiss you in the kitchen._  
_I plan to kiss you in every room, but we only make it to mine._  
_I push you back against the door to close it before kissing you again.  
You sure you want to see that movie now?_

The brunette’s mouth was suddenly very dry, his pulse pumping so fast that his skin began to tingle.  A tug of pain in his stomach made it difficult to decide if he was excited or terrified at the silver haired man’s proposal, but now that the idea had been introduced, it was all Yuri could find himself thinking about.  Head hazy, his fingers began to move of their own accord.

_Point taken._

Smooth, Katsuki.  It was no wonder he’d remained single for the entirety of his life--he wasn’t even able to flirt when someone was all but throwing themselves at him.  How could he have been expected to initiate this on his own?

 _Honestly, I’d love to leave to go to Northern Russia,_ Yuri continued, trying to get a flow of conversation going again but not quite having the nerve to escalate Victor’s advances.   _It’s so hot here right now.  I can hardly wear clothes anymore._

_Nevermind, I’m on my way_

_Hahaha  
_ _But you know…_

Yuri paused.

_I wouldn’t… object._  
_And I’m sure it wouldn’t_  
_be a problem for you to  
stay here for a few days._

_I would love to!  But I’m_  
_not sure when I’d be able_  
_to make it possible._

The follow-up appeared after a moment of hesitation.

 _But… I do want to see you._ _  
_ _Soon._

Yuri’s heart was calmer now, the beat of it lugubrious while his chest hummed with an unnamed emotion.  He knew that feeling better than anyone else; it was what kept him glued to his phone for hours, sneaking peeks at their chat logs on his break at work or idly checking on free days for any new messages from the man across the world.

 _I miss you_ Yuri typed, the words feeling particularly true today.  

The rattle of keys and tell-tale ‘click’ of the lock as it opened indicated that Phichit had made his way home, regarding his forlorn, half-naked roommate with little alarm.

“Yuri!” he sang, tossing his keyring on an end table near the door.  A single grunt let the American know that his friend was conscious and present.  Phichit flopped onto the couch beside his roommate’s makeshift bed, completely unbothered by his state of undress.  It was obvious from Yuri’s unwillingness to look away from his phone that he was currently engaged in a conversation with the silver-haired stranger.  “Victor’s up late.  You working tonight?”

 _I miss you, too._ Victor replied, though it did little to alleviate the other’s listlessness.   _I’d give anything to touch you._

“No, Amil didn’t end up needing me after all.”  Yuri replied to Phichit as he shifted at the idea of Victor’s suggestion.  It was a good thing he was adept at multi-tasking.  Victor continued on without Yuri’s encouragement; the Asian wanted to reciprocate the thought, but the idea of doing so while having a conversation with someone he wasn’t currently intimate with felt… wrong.

 _We never had much of a_  
_chance to when we were_  
_together.  I wouldn’t change_  
_anything about what_  
_happened, but…_ _  
I wish we had more time._

“In that case, you should put your man to bed and come out to dinner with me.”

Yuri swallowed as he saw that Victor was continuing to type.  “Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight!” Phichit grinned.  “I wanna hang out with you before I leave.”

In his pitiful state, Yuri had forgotten that his friend was scheduled to cover several international events for work, leaving him out of the house for the next couple of weeks.  It seemed an embarrassing thing to let slip from his mind, since watering his plants while he was gone had been Phichit’s closest request to rent.  But it seemed Victor had cast quite the spell on the brunette.  

 _There are plenty of ways_ _  
_ _I would have loved to fill it._

_...The time, that is._

Mouth dry, Yuri sat up, quickly clicking off the device in his hand to take a deep breath in through his nose.  He was trying to pass it off as taking a moment to think about his friend’s offer, but in actuality it was to pull himself back down to earth after the bluntness of the Russian’s innuendo.

“Let’s do it,” he said with a nod and a look of determination that was perhaps a bit too intense for dinner plans.  Regardless, he needed to distract himself from Victor before the conversation went too far.  Yuri was _very_ interested in the idea of sex with the Russian, but as it was something he’d never experienced before he found the idea of talking about it in text to be unappetizing.  While the act wasn’t something Yuri thought of as particularly special, trying to excite each other while hunched over keyboards thousands of kilometers apart somehow managed to suck what little romance was left out of it.

Phichit was too busy celebrating their night out to notice any change in Yuri’s demeanor; between Phichit’s long hours and Yuri’s erratic schedule, it had been hard for the two of them to spend much time together recently, the majority of their interactions limited to greetings.  The triumphant cry of “Roommate Date” filled the room.  Yuri laughed.

“Okay, okay,” he said through chuckles, waggling his phone to remind the other that he was still in a conversation.  “Give me ten minutes?”

“I’ll give you twenty, because I want to shower,” Phichit said as he got to his feet, stripping off a his grey blazer to reveal a striped tee underneath.  “Maybe we can go dancing afterwards?”

“Sure,” Yuri agreed after a moment of hesitation.  The idea of doing anything that wasn’t moping around the house seemed impossible to him now, but a small part of him hoped that leaving would provide enough momentum to do something other than wait for a text.

 _I hate to do this,_ Yuri tapped out, fingers shaking with adrenaline and relief.   _But I have to go.  Phichit and I are going out._

 _Mmph.  Katsuki._ There it was.  His little tell of disappointment.  

_I know, I know.  Listen... let’s talk_  
_more about this tomorrow, okay?_  
_Seeing each other, I mean.  
Get some sleep._

_I’ll try.  I might be too excited._

Yuri grinned as he bid the Russian goodnight, a familiar sweetness lingering in his chest as he went to prepare himself for the night ahead.  

More than 24 hours passed before Victor appeared online again, each bringing a new twist to the graphic worse-case scenarios Yuri’s brain came up with as to where the Russian could be.  It was difficult to remember the last time Victor had neglected to mention any plans that took him away from home.

A ping turned off his faucet of negative thoughts--Victor had sent him a message at nearly 4am in St. Petersburg, when the Asian was working.  Yuri couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief when he saw it, though the text indicating his friend’s was uncharacteristically short.

 _Hey,_ the writer said, as though he hadn’t been missing for more than a day.

 _Victor!_ Yuri replied on his break, lunch abandoned in favor of sneaking a few extra minutes with the man across the Pacific.   _I didn’t think I’d see you today.  Is everything okay?_

_Yes, sorry.  It’s been a long day._

That was certainly an understatement.  

 _Everything okay?_  Yuri asked, too relieved by Victor’s presence to be annoyed by his lateness.

 _Don’t worry about it._  
_Let’s talk about when_  
_we’re seeing each other._

A pause.

_Please._

There was something desperate in the addendum, something that Yuri wasn’t able to argue against.  A handful of minutes later, a freshly-purchased itinerary waited in his inbox for a flight from Russia to New York dated just a few days from then.  Victor had hardly waited for Yuri to get the okay from his roommate, though there wasn’t much need to convince Phichit.  The Russian seemed significantly more cheerful after the purchase had been made, but there was still a weight to his replies, a subtle shift in his usage of punctuation.  Whenever Yuri had the nerve to try and press the other to talk about whatever was under his skin, Victor would quickly brush off his concerns.

_Don’t worry about me._  
_I was a bit down, but I’m_  
_glad to have something  
to look forward to._

Admittedly, Yuri felt the same; he hadn’t quite realized the depth of his funk until the idea of seeing Victor again was on the table.  While the days that lead up to his arrival passed much more slowly than he liked, Yuri found himself doing more productive things to pass the time as he waited.  Before he knew it, he was bidding farewell to Phichit as he ran out their front door to catch a cab, and in what felt like even less time he was driving his roommate’s car to the airport to meet his second favorite man in the world (his most favorite having just left, of course).

Yuri kept shaky hands dutifully placed at 10 and 2, nervous with inexperience; he had hardly driven while in Japan, and that was in a car with a steering wheel on the opposite side.  Thankfully, the car was an automatic, keeping the nightmare of using a clutch dormant.  He arrived late, too terrified to meet the speed limit, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Victor ducked into the vehicle and immediately grinned.

In the blink of an eye, Yuri had gone from Life Without Victor to Life With Victor, and he needed a moment to adjust.  His surroundings felt full somehow, pushing into him with more vibrancy in a way that left him a little overwhelmed.  The man Yuri had spent the last month and a half getting to know in every possible way was here, and while it felt as though the two were very close, so much of what had grown between them had not been face-to-face.  For a moment, Yuri felt a sickening mix of elation and terror, waiting for a moment to pass for Victor to lower himself from the pedestal Yuri had set him on.

“Hey, you,” Victor said through a wide smile, delight coloring the phrase. Leaning in, he placed a hand on Yuri’s right cheek while placing a kiss on the left.  A loud honk from behind them cut off any hint of fluttering in the brunette’s chest at the greeting.  Panic gripped him at the hasty interjection, and he was back to focusing all his energy on how to drive; no matter how much he wanted to relish being in the moment with the man who had flown across an ocean to see him, keeping both of them alive would always be his first priority.

Conversation between them flowed naturally, the sound of Victor’s voice replacing Yuri’s own in memories of conversations that had happened online.  It allowed him to relax back into the idea that Victor was another human being instead of a bubble of text.  By the time they arrived at Phichit’s empty apartment, Yuri was comfortable meeting his gaze, recognizing Victor’s handsome features now that he was bold enough to look at them.  The way his face brightened when speaking with Yuri made the brunette’s cheeks pleasantly warm.

“So,” Victor sighed as the lock on the front door clicked loudly behind them.  “Your host is away?”

“For another week or so, yeah,” Yuri replied.  The inquiry had been so casual that it had taken him off guard, but as he hooked the keys to Phichit’s car on the wall he realized how alone that made the two of them.  Excitement mixed thoroughly with terror as he struggled with what he wanted more: to kiss Victor or be kissed by him.

“Ah.”  Victor entered the living space, placing his bag underneath the kitchen peninsula that drew a straight path alongside the door to its right.  “I’d say it’s a shame, but… Is it?”  His occasional bouts of honesty had their disadvantages, but as it sliced through the sexual tension present in the room, Yuri found it hard to remember them.  Blue eyes glinted with intent as he turned to face his partner in the room, who was already on his way to meet Nikiforov.  The blond met him in the middle.

And then…

...everything was quiet.

The buzz of his nerves stopped, all noisy thought suddenly silent; his world was peaceful now, lulled the moment Yuri found himself wrapped in Victor’s arms.  Clinging to the taller man, Yuri took in a slow breath from the shoulder he had buried his face in.  The scent that came with it was a vague but pleasant memory, one he had missed more than he thought.  Victor’s nose was tucked in the crook of his neck, breath tickling the hairs there as his hand cradled the back of Yuri’s head.

A long moment later, the two parted, Yuri quickly bringing himself to his toes to give a kiss ‘hello’.  It felt like he was floating when Victor returned it with equal fervor, cupping the brunette’s cheeks with his hands as he pulled the other closer.

No amount of time would have made that kiss feel long enough, and Yuri blinked his eyes to clear the haze of his lustful stupor after they broke apart.  Looking at Victor seemed only to exacerbate it, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away.  The Russian grinned, a friendly pink coloring his face.

“Hi.”

Yuri’s heart cracked in half, the sound muffled against where their chests met.  He couldn’t hold back the smile that pulled at his face, goofy in how honest it was.

“Hi,” he breathed back, Victor walking them backwards as he maintained his pleasant grip on his shorter companion.  Their path was in the general direction of the mattress placed haphazardly in front of the couch; Yuri was so drunk on the idea of touching Victor that he didn’t quite care how far things could escalate.  Though he’d never been intimate with another person before, the idea of doing so with Victor felt so natural that he had no reason to overthink it.  But as he felt the waistband of his pants loosen, a specific realization made itself very obviously known.

 _I don’t know anything about sex,_ Yuri thought as Victor fell backwards onto the couch, pulling at the other’s legs to straddle him on his knees.  Yuri’s heartbeat quickened as Victor took his cock in his hands.

 _I don’t know anything about sex,_ the notion continued to echo as he moaned through a tightly shut mouth, eyes closed to focus on the colors that danced across their dark backs when Victor’s hands moved.

 _I don’t know anything abo--_ Yuri’s internal monologue came to a blessed stop when he did, the orgasm throwing a white sheet over his mind’s eye.  He had pressed his face into Victor’s shoulder in the moment, hunched over the other as he shuddered out the rest of it.  There was a hum in his legs as he regained his composure, present as he righted himself to look breathlessly at Victor through crooked glasses.  The Russian’s smile as he met his gaze, warm and attractive, made him feel even more dizzy.  Eyes dipping, Yuri felt an unbearable heat grow in his ears.  It was time for him to return the favor, he supposed.

“Wh-What would you like me to do?” Yuri tried to disguise the awkward stutter as desire.  It was not very convincing, but Victor’s eyes lit up at the idea of it being his turn.

“What would _you_ like to do?” There was no fear that needed to be hidden in Victor’s voice, which poured out of him like honey.  Long, silver lashes hung low over baby blue eyes, now possessing a much darker tint to them.  Breathing became much more difficult; everything about Victor seemed to steal the air from Yuri’s lungs.

“I…” the sentence died in his throat when Victor blinked, unable to survive the sheer force of his good looks.  Yuri struggled to continue, an unending series of possibilities looping quickly through his mind.  “I-I don’t…”

Victor’s face changed instantly.

“Everything okay?” He asked, and Yuri struggled to do anything but gasp for air.  Victor placed his palms on either side of Yuri’s face and breathed his name in concern, which only seemed to make his breaths feel more shallow.  

The world felt so small, Yuri’s own expectations of himself squeezing him from all sides.  In all the time he had spent imagining the two of them together, it had been difficult to picture himself in any position of reciprocation, mostly because he had no idea _what_ to do.  Any fantasy involving himself as the initiator tended to spiral into a self-loathing display of his own ineptitude.  Apparently, reality was no different.

Victor was speaking to him, telling him to sit down; the brunette obeyed, a shaky hand resting on the arm of the couch as the older man ducked into the kitchen.  A moment later, a glass of water was placed within it.

“Drink this?” Victor’s accent was thicker, voice weighed with an emotion Yuri couldn’t quite place.  Wanting to avoid more of a scene, he complied, his world coming back into focus after a few gulps.  As he lowered the glass to his lap, Yuri allowed his gaze to follow, unable to look the other in the eye.

“Sorry,” he mumbled through an unsteady breath.  A hand slid across his shoulders.  Victor took a seat beside him on the couch, pressing a sweet kiss into the side of Yuri’s head.

“Nothing to apologize for.  Has this happened to you before?”

“W-Well…” Yuri struggled to admit that there had never been a ‘before’ to begin with; his virginity wasn’t something he felt ashamed about, but admitting it tended to invite a whole host of weird reactions that the brunette had gotten tired of.  He supposed he should have probably mentioned something to the other man previously, since it was biting him in the ass now.  But it was a little too late for that.

The silence that lingered after he trailed off gave Victor an opportunity to connect the dots himself, face shifting into an expression of shock and mild horror.  He leaned in closer, their closeness very apparent to the younger man.

“This wasn’t your first time, was it?” Victor murmured, as though they were being watched.  Cheeks burning, Yuri nodded affirmatively.  To the Yuri’s surprise, the Russian’s face turned a charming shade of red to match his own.  It didn’t suit him at all, but there was still something endearing about seeing the older man in a similarly vulnerable position.

“I’m so sorry, Yuri, I had no idea.”  Victor placed his head in his hands, and Yuri could all but hear the hiss of his face touching down on cooler skin.  “I would never have pushed you so quickly if I had known.  I was just so happy to see you that I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

Unlike their previous activity, Yuri found it easy to reciprocate Victor’s kind comfort, his hand resting on the Russian’s knee as he ducked his head down in an attempt to catch the other’s eyes.  A soft smile played at his lips; embarrassment was a side of Victor that Yuri wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see, and he felt a little pleased at the fact that he was able to.

“No, it’s fine.  I liked it.”  Heat returned to his cheeks at the admission.  Blue met brown as Victor gazed back up, looking slightly less mortified.  Encouraged by the other’s positive reaction, Yuri continued.  “But I... I got really embarrassed about not knowing what I was doing.”  Pulling his hand from the other’s leg, Yuri brought his hands together, idly fidgeting to give himself an excuse to look at his palms.  “I guess I got worried that you’d think I was bad at this and… I dunno.”

Victor laughed.

“Yuri.  Believe me.  I’ve endured much worse than lackluster sex.”  Victor leaned forward, index finger hovering close to his lips as he tried to recall something more offensive; it took him surprisingly little time.  “I once went out multiple times with a guy who pretended to know my name for the entirety of our first date.  I guess that says more about me than him, but still.”

Yuri’s face was an interesting mix of shock and confusion, and Victor laughed again before continuing, “Besides, I’ve come to learn that sex only gets good when you do it a bunch of times with the same person.  So don’t worry.  This would have probably been the first of many mediocre encounters.”

Victor’s looping logic didn’t make much sense, and to one who might not have known him well, would have most likely come off as offensive.  But Yuri could decipher what his bizarre meaning was, and somehow only grew to like him more from his odd attempt at solace.

“That’s not really comforting,” he teased.  Victor grinned sheepishly.

“I just mean that you can take as long as you like getting good at this.”  He winked, eyelashes drifting like snowflakes.  “And feel free to practice whenever you want.”

Now it was Yuri’s turn to laugh, a sweet, percolating sound that appeared rarely.  Silence made its way back into the room, but this time was a much more welcome guest.  Victor leaned heavily on Yuri’s shoulder, and the two began to melt, their bodies eventually draping across the couch, Victor’s head resting on Yuri’s chest.  Heart pounding, Yuri tapped the wide swirl of the other’s part resting near the back of his skull.

“Mmph,” Victor grunted, the little tick of displeasure making itself known in real life for the first time.  Yuri made a note to remember how it sounded, unable to hide a smile.  Victor’s face, however, remained heavy, eyes dark with thought.

“Is everything okay?” Yuri dared to ask after absorbing the look for a few moments.  The Russian blinked, awkwardly craning his neck to look up at the younger man.

“Yeah, why?”

Fear squeezed Yuri’s chest briefly as he struggled with his own honesty, unsure of if his friend wanted to confide in him.  “You’ve just been… different the last couple of days.”

“Hm.”

The lack of response felt intentional, though Victor tried to pass it off as just a casual acknowledgement.  Recalling their conversation the morning of Victor’s departure from Nuremburg, Yuri tried to dig deeper.

“How’s your family?  You said someone was sick, right?”

Victor hesitated.

“...My dad had a stroke.”

“What?”

“My dad had a stroke.  A week or so ago.”

“Oh,” Yuri breathed, the idea weighing heavily on his shoulders.  He blinked, panicking in the silence that remained.  Victor had been similarly terse when the subject of his family had been brought up in the past; it wasn’t something he enjoyed discussing, it seemed.  In most cases, Yuri was too intimidated to press for more information.  But here, drunk in his presence, he felt bold enough to try.

“I’m sorry to hear that.  Is that… why you had to leave before, too?”

Victor sighed through his nose, head rocking negatively as he said, “I originally left because he had gotten Pneumonia and I needed to help my mom while he was off his feet.  He had made a decent recovery, so I started getting ready to take off, maybe see where you were. But...”

Yuri couldn’t feel flattered through the heartbreak he felt for Victor, who had pushed himself up into a seated position.

“I’m so sorry.  Is he okay now?”

Victor’s eyebrows softened, the corners closest to his nose pulling higher up his forehead as he shook his head.  His expression resembled that of a lost child.

“We don’t know?  He’s conscious, but not very aware.”

His voice was surprisingly even, but his eyes had started to shimmer.  He had a distant stare that implied his mind was thousands of miles away.

“Are you okay?” Yuri hardly recognized his own voice as it left him.   Folding a leg over his knee, Victor nodded unconvincingly before resting his hands on his flattened shin.  The brunette rested his hand atop the other’s with no small amount of caution.  “Victor…?”

“I-I guess I’m not sure how to feel about this,” Nikiforov finally offered.  Yuri tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Victor hesitated, eyes searching for words.  “My dad and I have never gotten along.  We fought almost all the time.  He was a veteran and he thought it gave him the right to strong-arm his kids into behaving how he wanted.”  A pause.  A shrug.  “Eventually he got older and just sort of… morphed into this person I didn’t know anymore.  He used to twist our arms if we did something wrong until we said what he wanted to hear.  Now he can hardly get out of bed.  I’ve never really liked him but I feel… terrible for him.  We weren’t friends, but…”  Yuri blinked as the other gathered his thoughts, his image shifting in the afternoon sun as he continued.   “I don’t know.  He’s my dad.  Mom is so devastated that she’s spending most days in her room.  She responds when I want to spend time with her, but…”

Yuri listened, because it was all he could do.  He had never known a life that didn’t involve supportive, healthy, mildly embarrassing parents, so the words needed to comfort his friend were difficult to find.

“I’m sorry.”  Victor said, reacting to the silence.  “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

"No, no!  I’m sorry!”  Yuri waved his hands defensively, flat palms showing themselves to the writer.  He hesitated, the breath needed to continue coming to him slowly.  “I just… don’t know what to say.”  Offering a small smile, Yuri squeezed Victor’s hand.  “Don’t feel bad for telling me something like that.”  He looked up at the Russian, blinking sincerely.  “I want to be there for you.”

A moment ticked by as Victor absorbed the phrase.  With a grunt of acknowledgement, he leaned back into his previous position between Yuri’s legs, head resting securely where it belonged on Yuri’s chest.  They were close, but not close enough.  Arms draped over arms, leaving them satisfactorily tangled.  Yuri enjoyed the weight of Victor’s body against his breath, which was slowed from the extra effort.  It made time feel slower.

“I’m glad I’m here.”  Victor murmured, voice humming in Yuri’s forearms.  The older man turned to rest his head on its side, white skin catching the yellow in the afternoon light.  Eyelashes ghosted over Yuri’s shirt as Victor lowered his gaze.  With a contented sigh, he added.  “I’m glad _you’re_ here.”

It didn’t take long for Victor to drift off, lulled quickly to sleep from the warmth of the other’s body, as well as a particularly zealous sunbeam that poked in from a nearby window.  With no small amount of skill, Yuri fished for the remote and turned on the TV without waking up the sleeping Russian.  

As he returned to his previous position, Yuri allowed his hand to generously run along the length of Victor’s arms, savoring the sensation of how it felt when their skin met.  Idly, his thumb continued to stroke along the other’s wrist as Yuri’s mind wandered.

This moment, one he had been dreading and dreaming of for the last couple of months, was somehow more perfect than anything he could have imagined.  Even if the circumstances of their reunion weren’t the best, being here, wrapped around Victor as he slept, was the happiest he had been in… a long time.

He closed his eyes, the chattering of an infomercial making them feel unusually heavy.  Yuri yawned, settling further down the length of Victor’s spine.

This moment wouldn’t last forever.  Soon, this moment would end.  Soon, Victor would be gone, fermenting in his past.  Soon, neither of them would know when they’d see each other again.

Yuri stilled his thumb, giving Victor’s arm a squeeze as he drew in a long breath.  Sleep tugged at his consciousness, a familiar black creeping into its edges.  

He would worry about that moment when it came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA. I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope the extra-long chapter helps make up for it--this one alone is nearly as long as the first two put together! I suddenly picked up some paid writing work, which made working on this difficult. Obviously, at this point, I can't promise when the next one will be out, but I won't have to introduce a new character, a new concept, and a new location all in the same chapter, so hopefully it'll take less time!! I'm playing with the formatting this chapter, so let me know if the opposite-ended "Text bubbles" are too distracting. I imagine there won't be a WHOLE lot more of them throughout the rest of this fic's lifetime, but it's still good to know!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and sorry for the delay. Hope to see you again soon!


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